Elven Child
by WildeHearted
Summary: When an Elf and a Drow marry and have a child, they are in for a surprise. Their daughter, Tylia, doesn't develop either Elven or Drow magic, but rather the magic of humans. This forces them send her to Hogwarts, where she is a novelty and a mystery.
1. Prologue

**Prologue: Hogwarts of a Halfbreed**

"Well, well, well, what is this?" The cool whisper was not a question. Two teenagers stood alone in a hallway. The taller, older of the two, Tylandraes Windguard-Zauval, was the one who had spoken. Her silver hair glinted in the torchlight as her black school-issued cloak fluttered in the draft.

"You heard me," the shorter, younger of the two retorted. Tylia was particularly fond of this newest of her 'Breezes,' her informants. The first year's name was Frank Longbottom the Second, and he was good at getting interesting tidbits of information without attracting attention. He was also utterly unafraid and unintimidated by her. It made for a nice change, now and then.

"Frank!" a voice echoed through the empty, drafty corridor.

"I've made my report, I need to go," Frank said, looking away from Tylia for a moment, and then glancing back to her. Another lovely thing about Frank was that he was polite. He always waited for her dismissal.

"Frank!" The voice called again. Tylia recognized it as Rose Weasley's voice. "Where'd you get to? Your dad's looking for you!"

"You're one of my best, Frank," Tylia replied to the boy, a rare compliment. "Go, then."

"I know I am," Frank called as he trotted down the hall. Tylia slipped into a secret passage just as he called out again, this time to Rose. "I'm here, Rose! What's Dad want?"

Concealed, Tylia watched as the 11 year old rounded the corner. Sighing, she leaned against the wall of her hiding place.

"So the elder Potter has taken offense at young Master Scorpius, has he?" Tylia mused, closing her emerald eyes so that she could summon an image of the hazel-eyed, black haired sixth year Gryffindor and the storm-gray eyes and pale blond hair of the youngest of the Malfoy clan.

James, the Potter boy, hadn't held Tylia's interest for very long. He was a jokester, but his pranks were nothing when compared to those of his sister, Lily, who was four years younger than he. But Scorpius, now Scorpius was interesting. He made very interesting choices, was absolutely fascinated by magical cultures and was a year below her in Hogwarts.

"What do you care?" asked a voice in the darkness of the secret passage. Tylia's excellent memory processed it as the voice of Lily Potter.

"_Lumos_," Tylia murmured, slipping her wand from her pocket. Lily seemed to be in a bad mood, and, rumor had it, she had inherited her mother's skill with minor curses.

Her wand tip flared and lit up a very annoyed looking 3rd year Gryffindor with red hair, pale green eyes and more than her fair share of freckles.

"Well?" Lily demanded, hands on hips. Tylia struggled between being annoyed that she had allowed this _human_ to sneak up on her, or amused that Lily had managed it. She decided to be amused. It generally served her purposes better.

"Your brother's exploits interest me, Miss Potter," Tylia replied truthfully. The taller, older Ravenclaw saw no reason to lie to the compact, wiry young woman before her. "As do those of young Master Malfoy."

"Why?" Lily demanded again, her annoyance lessening slightly as interest replaced it.

"Because he is an interesting individual." Tylia shrugged elegantly. Not entirely the truth; it was Scorpius more than James that interested her, but that was alright.

"Yeah, James is, at that," Lily agreed easily, nodding her assent. Then her eyes lit up, a spark of mischief in them. "Though if you're going for 'interesting,' Albus might suit you better. Ever met him? I could introduce you."

"Some other time, perhaps," Tylia replied with a light bow, though she never took her eyes from Lily's face. She would not tell Lily that Albus, too, was on her list of Interests. "I prefer to watch for now."

"Suit yourself," Lily shrugged as well, turning and retreating down the steps. "See you."

She paused before she went entirely out of sight, something having occurred to her.

"Wait a minute," she called up the stairs as she turned back around. "What's your—"

She stopped speaking suddenly because the silver-haired girl had vanished, the tapestry fluttering slightly in her wake.


	2. Chapter 1

_**Beginning in this chapter, there will be 'footnotes' after certain words that are italicized and bolded. The numbers correspond with explinations given at the end of each chapter. They will be set apart by a double line break.**_

**Chapter One: Explanations and Spywork**

"Professor—" began a young, hesitant voice.

"Jallil, you may call me," replied a lisping voice as confident and old as the hills.

"Professor Jallil," continued the younger voice as Tylia paused at the door to the Alchemy class. She was supposed to be in her Magical Languages class, but had finished her test early and was running errands for the professor, who just happened to be her father. "If you don't mind me asking…"

"I never will turn away a question," Jallil replied. Tylia smiled. Her mother's odd English never ceased to amuse her daughter.

"What _are_ you?"

Tylia couldn't help it: she laughed. Instantly, the door opened, and the proffesor was standing there, grinning maliciously. To anyone else, she would have been a frightening figure; Jallilvlos Zauval had skin almost the color of ebony, though Tylia knew that it was actually dark blue, hair like spun silver and eyes as red as human blood.

"Zauval-madam," Jallil purred her own last name as she latched onto Tylia's wrist and pulled her forcefully into the classroom. Tylia smoothed her face of all emotion as the fourth year class—including two of Tylia's current Interests, Albus Potter and Scorpius Malfoy—turned to look at her. "Young one's question you amuses. Answer it will you."

"As you wish, Professor," Tylia replied, her voice as flat as her face as she scanned the class. Albus' periwinkle blue eyes caught her jade green ones, but he looked away a moment later. "Professor Jallil is a _Pasaer_1. _Pasaelaer_2 are a magical race not unlike hags or vampyres in that they—and their _Jhondraelael_3 cousins—are not allowed to wield wands. However, they hardly need wand magic to keep up with wizards because both races have their own, natural, magic. _Pasaelael_4 magic usually involves weapons and destruction, while _Jhondraelael_ magic most commonly relates to plants, animals and other natural items."

A Ravenclaw in the back of the class raised his hand hesitantly as Scorpius did the same. Jallil glanced between the two and then motioned to Tylia.

"Telling yours is," the professor shrugged. "Questions yours are also."

"Scorpius, your question?" Tylia gestured toward the Slytherin. The younger student's storm-gray eyes widened and his eyebrows rose slightly at the fact that this stranger knew his name, but he was otherwise unmoved.

"Why have I never heard of _Pasaelaer_? Or _Jhondraelaer_5, for that matter?" Scorpius inquired his voice clear and cold. "Magical races are my…fascination."

"Both races are notoriously unfond of humans," Tylia replied easily. "And while _Jhondraelaer _and _Pasaelaer_ once populated much of the known world—and artifacts of those larger civilizations are sometimes still found—they have retreated to lands where humans cannot bother them."

Tylia glanced at her mother for the Ravenclaw's name as Albus, too, raised his hand.

"Thomas-master, question yours to ask?" Jallil called, pointing to the Ravenclaw.

"What's a '_Jhondraer_6'?" he asked, his dark brown eyes alight with something very familiar to Tylia: a thirst for knowledge. "You said they were cousins to the _Pasaelaer_. And do _Pasaelaer_ always look as Professor Jallil does?"

"Yes, _Pasaelaer_ always look like Professor Jallil," Tylia replied out-of-order. "Red eyes, silver hair and dark, blue-black skin are the hallmark of a _Pasaer_, though the race has been known to produce individual variations, such as yellow, green or lavender eyes, or skin with a purple tone rather than a blue one."

Albus put his hand down, a thoughtful look on his face, but a girl near him raised her hand instead.

"As for _Jhondraelaer_," Tylia continued easily. "They are 'Light Elves' to the _Pasaelaer's_ 'Dark Elves.' The two were once one race, but they diverged. Who here knows or has seen Myrdyl Sholes?"

Almost every hand went up, the female's more quickly than those of the men. Tylia allowed herself a half of a crooked smile; her father _was_ handsome, if she was completely honest.

"Professor Sholes is a _Jhondraer_," Tylia finished, again glancing at the Alchemy Professor for the name of the Hufflepuff girl near Albus.

"Longbottom-madam," Jallil called. Tylia took note; this, then, was the older sister of her newest Breeze.

"I have two questions," Ally began hesitantly. Her soft voice gained confidence when Tylia waved her on. "Do _Jhondraelaer_ have as strict a look as _Pasaelaer_? And, if _Pasaelaer_ and _Jhondraelaer_ hide from humans, why are Professors Jallil and Sholes here?"

"_Jhondraelaer_ are tall, thin, pale and fragile looking," Tylia replied instantly. It was information she knew by heart. "But then, so too are _Pasaelaer_, save for the 'pale.' _Jhondraelaer_ usually have dark hair and deep green eyes, though, again, variations exist, usually in eye color. Some _Jhondraelaer _have blonde hair, or blue eyes--though it is rare indeed that those two traits coincide. Most _Pasaelaer_ and _Jhondraelaer_ cannot stand humans for personal reasons of their own. Professors Jallil and Sholel are obvious exceptions."

Tylia slipped her mother a scroll and muttered "From Father" in the _Pasaelael _tongue, then made for the door.

"Wait." Jallil's voice rang out in the silent classroom. "Another question there is."

Tylia turned slowly, but the inquirer's name was out of her mouth before she caught sight of him.

"Yes, Albus?"

"If _Pasaelaer_ have dark skin and silver hair," the Gryffindor began in a quiet voice that nonetheless carried over the near-silence of the classroom. "And _Jhondraelaer_ are pale with deep green eyes, then what does that make you, who has silver hair, ashy skin and green eyes?"

Tylia's mind raced. She had known that someone might catch on eventually. That it was this particular young man amused her, and intrigued her; there was no such thing as coincidence in her mind.

"I'm just special, I guess," the half-breed replied with a vicious grin before finally achieving the door and the hallway. A black cat-like creature waited for her there, patient in the shadows. "Afternoon, Petrius. Would you do me a favor, please?"

The _pa'das_7 paced around her, then sat just in front of her and nodded.

_Whatever must be done._ The words echoed in Tylia's mind. The girl smiled and sat down so that her eyes were on a level with Petrius' own.

"There's a boy in this class," Tylia began, sending the highly intelligent, _Pasaelael_-bred feline an image of Albus Severus Potter. "Follow him. Don't speak with him, but report his activities to me."

_He is now my quarry,_ replied the leopard-sized tom according to his own protocol. _No interaction, merely observation. Is this correct?_

"Yes, thank you, Petrius," Tylia agreed, kissing him on the nose as she got to her feet and started toward her father's classroom.

_I will report to you once he is asleep, _Petrius called as she walked away. He slipped into a shadowy alcove and literally vanished into the shadows. It was a bit of _pa'das_ magic.

_And there'll be a steak waiting for you,_ thought Tylia with a smile. Every _Pasaer_ was Bonded to a _pa'das_ at birth. Jallil had stolen a newborn _pa'das_ kitten for her half-Elven daughter. _Pa'das_ existed to help their _Pasaelael_ counterparts. Not all were as intelligent as Petrius—Jallil's _pa'das_ was actually rather dim—but all could follow directions.

"Professor, what is my task?" Tylia inquired as she entered the Magical Languages classroom.

"What kept you?" Myrdyl inquired in reply without turning from the board where he was helping one of the students with some _Jhondraelael_ verbs. He asked the question in _Condraelael_8, a dialect of Elven not taught in his class.

"Mother," she replied in the same language as she waited for him to give her another errand. "The usual mid-year 'what are you?' I happened to overhear and laughed, so she made me answer."

Myrdyl turned merry eyes on his daughter and the Ravenclaw at the board with him was startled to notice their eyes were the exact same color.

"Then you should not have laughed," Myrdyl retorted, highly amused.

"Well, expect a few admirers at your door, Father," Tylia replied dryly. "I told the class that you were _Jhondraelael_."

"Thank you very much, daughter-mine," Myrdyl drawled, turning back to the verbs and switching to _Shydaelael_9, a type of Elven he taught in class. "The Headmistress requested a favor. Go see what she requires."

* * *

Hours later, Tylia sprawled messily across one of the ebony and azure couches in the Ravenclaw Common Room.

_It must be past two and Mother's just released me, _she thought wearily. No other humanoids were in the room, though there was a little Siamese cat curled up near the half-elf's feet

_Jallilvlos-__micamer_10_ means well,_ came the cool, reassuring sound of Petrius' mind-voice. _You must learn both of your cultures, as divergent as they are._

_Yes, but must I learn them after midnight? _Tylia demanded rhetorically as she sat up in time to see the _pa'das_ materialize out of the shadows, red eyes gleaming in the light from the nearby fire. The Siamese spooked at the sight of the magical cat.

_Only the old Pasaelael rituals,_ Petrius replied anyway. _The Pasaelael are a people of darkness and—_

—_And blood, yes, I know, _interrupted Tylia, pulling from her bag the steak she had gotten from the house elves in the kitchen while on her rounds.

_Thank you, Tylia,_ the _pa'das_ murmured, devouring the majority of the raw, inch-thick steak very quickly. A small scrap was left, which Petrius stepped away from. _For the little cousin._

Tylia smiled as she picked up the scrap and began to look for the frightened Siamese. That was something else. Most _pa'das_ were vicious, like their Bonds.

_She's on top of the cabinet,_ Petrius commented and, sure enough, the white and brown cat was pinned under Petrius' unnatural scarlet gaze. Tylia put the scrap up where she could reach it and turned back to her friend. _As for your curiosity, you thought the answer yourself._

_Huh?_

'_Most pa'das are vicious, like their Bonds,' _Petrius recited easily, his bloody eyes turning to her. _I, too, am like my Bond: calmer and more clearheaded than most of my kind as a result of your Jhondraelael blood._

_Oh._

_My report, then? _Petrius suggested.

_Yes, of course, please, _Tylia agreed instantly.

_The quarry attended his classes as usual, as well as dinner, _began the large feline, showing her flashing images of Albus' day. _During the free time after dinner, he visited Myrdyl Sholel._

He paused on an image of Albus bowing to Tylia's father as though expecting her to make a comment.

"And?" Tylia prodded calmly. Petrius nodded his approval of her composure.

_Master Sholel shut me out of his classroom,_ Petrius admitted, and then lifted his lips to show his sharp teeth in a feline grin. _But the quarry's mind was loud and his thoughts clear. I did not even need to scan for him; he projected so loudly._

"Stop bragging and get on with your report," Tylia laughed with slight exasperation.

_He wished to know about you and, because you spoke of the Master with pleasure in your voice, the quarry sought him out._

"And what did my father tell him, pray?" Tylia inquired dryly. Her voice was calm but her thoughts were furious: _Betrayed by the love of my own father!_

_There is no harm in loving Master Windguard,_ Petrius replied to the undirected thought. _Besides, you want the quarry to know of you._

"You know something, Petrius?" Tylia asked sourly, glowering at the _pa'das _before her.

_What?_ Petrius asked dutifully, voice full of innocence.

"Sometimes I _hate_ having a telepath for a companion."

_Liar. _Petrius' mind-voice was flat, calm and, worst of all, honest. A _pa'das_ was incapable of lying to its Bond. _As for the rest of my report…_

"Of course," Tylia sighed and turned so that she could lean back on the magical beast's chest, her head laid back on his muscular shoulder.

_Master Windguard answered all of the quarry's questions,_ Petrius continued, shifting so that she would be more comfortable. _The quarry has learned that you are half-Jhondraelael, half-Pasaelael and that the Master is your father. While not directly told as much, he assumes that Jallilvlos-micamer is your mother. You have his interest and he means to seek you out at breakfast tomorrow._

"Then I'll just have to skip breakfast, won't I?" Tylia mused, and then she yawned broadly. "Let's go to bed, Petrius."

_It may interest you to know that a young man in green robes and gray eyes visited the Master as well, though with less curiosity about you and more about your parents' peoples._

"Scorpius," Tylia nodded easily; she had expected him to visit Myrdyl soon. "The green robes mean he's in Slytherin."

_Green robes,_ Petrius agreed. Tylia sighed again. Petrius was very stubborn when it came to not recognizing people by their Houses, especially for a creature bred into existence by a clan-based culture.

"C'mon," Tylia climbed to her feet, glad the day was over, but more than ready for the next one to start.

* * *

1Dark Elf

2Dark Elves

3Light Elven

4Dark Elven

5Light Elves

6Light Elf

7Literally 'panther;' a telepathic feline bonded at birth to a newborn Pasaer

8High Elven

9Wood Elven

10Ma'am or madam


	3. Chapter 2

**Chapter Two: First Meeting**

Tylia was up before dawn, as always. Of course, this far north and in the winter as they were now, the sunrise was at almost 8:20 am, so it wasn't hard for the young hybrid to beat Her1 out of bed. Petrius was already gone from his place at the foot of her bed. Tylia smiled; the black, panther-like feline would have been up and at his rounds almost an hour before, at four-ish.

She shook the last of the trance from her mind as she rose and stretched. Three hours of trance suited her as eight hours of sleep suited humans. At night, after dinner and homework, Tylia Zauval learned _Pasaelael_ rituals by starlight and firelight. In the early mornings, Tylandraes Windguard learned _Jhondraelaer_ customs and legends by the moonlight that filtered through the leaves of the Dark Forest.

Checking her internal clock, Tylia swore colorfully in two dialects of Elven and in Undercommon—a dialect of _Pasaelael_ more harsh-sounding than most. She was late by at least ten minutes; Myrdyl Windguard did not stand for tardiness.

She dressed swiftly and ran out of the Common Room, stopping only to press her hand to the blank section of the wall that was the exit, activating the spell that would open the wall. As soon as it was wide enough for her to pass, she dashed through at full tilt, headed for the Entrance Hall and the Forbidden Forest.

It was dark out and a light, misting rain fell steadily. Tylia pulled her cloak about her and kept running. She pulled up short when she saw a sputtering torch. From her father's stance, she could tell he was upset.

"You are late." It was the first time in a very long time that Tylia had heard his voice so cold. He was a kind man, and his voice normally reflected that.

"Yes, sir," Tylia replied with a light bow, her eyes never leaving his face. Another thing he despised was when a person wouldn't meet his eyes.

"Why is this?"

"I have no reason, sir," Tylia replied, knowing that this was the response he expected. Yet another of the few things that Myrdyl hated was excuses.

"Do not be late again," came the expected command, and Tylia sighed with relief, but she sighed quietly.

"Yes, sir."

"Today we will learn about one of our relatives," Myrdyl began, his voice warming as they moved into the Forest.

"Aren't they _all_ my relatives, Papa?" Tylia asked with a mischievous tinge to her voice. Now that the lesson had started, they spoke in the _Jhondraelael_ language.

"Most of them," the older _Jhondraer_ agreed with a smile that warmed his eyes as much as his face. "But today we will speak of Thaeraekaes Windguard."

"Oh, I know about _him,_" she replied with something akin to pride coloring her voice. She quickly squashed it. Myrdyl did not approve of self pride; he approved of pride in one's people, in one's culture, in one's family, but not in one's self.

"Do you indeed?" Myrdyl inquired dryly.

"Yes, Papa," Tylia replied quietly, her soft voice almost lost in the de-de de-de of the rain, which was getting harder as they walked deeper into the woods. "Thaeraekaes Windguard was a martyr. Before the _Pasaelaer_ and _Jhondraelaer_ were truly at war, over a millennium ago, Thaeraekaes was a _Jhondraelael_ general and spymaster. His 'Breezes' were the best ever known and his information as well."

"However?" Myrdyl's clear voice carried through the rainfall. Tylia had fallen silent, thinking about this great-grandfather whom she admired so much.

"It was a time when _Jhondraelaer_ were more innocent," Tylia murmured. Myrdyl pushed back the rain in a globe around them so that he could hear his daughter. "They were less willing to see the negative in anyone, even the _Pasaelaer_, who caused such devastation to their people. They denied that it was a _Pasaelael_ threat and did not even try to come up with another reason for the destruction."

"And so what happened?" Again came the soft prompting when Tylia fell silent.

"Thaeraekaes put himself in the line of a _Pasaelael_ raiding party," Tylia continued, still murmuring quietly, lost in her thoughts. "His son, who was then one of his Breezes, had a viewing spell on him, and recorded the viewing in a trance-vision. The _Pasaelaer_ tortured and mutilated Thaeraekaes, killing him slowly. Knowing him to be Spymaster, they tried to wring him for information. The only things that they got out of him were curses and the acknowledgment that all _Jhondraelaer_ would know what they had done."

"And what was the result of Thaeraekaes' martyrship?" Myrdyl inquired, letting the rain come back. Tylia looked up at him, as startled by the question as by the renewed rain.

"'Result?'" Tylia demanded, her deep green eyes flashing with fury. To imply that there was a single, simple result of Feathergem's death was to insult the man's sacrifice, something that Tylia would not stand for. Feathergem Windguard was one of Tylia's personal heroes. "There was no _single_ result of his death!"

Myrdyl merely nodded, pleased by the substance—if not the delivery—of his daughter's reaction. He knew that her vehemence was partially due to her mother's blood and to her schooling in _Pasaelaer_ tradition, and to his mistake of not bringing her up in a proper _Jhondraelael_ society. Not that he had had a choice in the matter, and not that he would change that now if he had the chance; he loved his daughter dearly, though there were things about her that put him on edge. He gestured for Tylia to continue.

"The results of Thaeraekaes' death were myriad," Tylia continued with a scowl for her father. "With Thaeraekaes began the _Pasaelael_ custom of allowing captives a final recording. Also included in the recording is always a warning to other _Jhondraelaer_. After his death, his son—your father—became His Majesty's Chief Advisor and his Spymaster. Grandpapa took over Thaeraekaes' network and did almost as well with it as his father had done. _Jhondraelaer_ were made more aware of the threat and many of the atrocities ceased or at least were lessened. Thaeraekaes' death marked the beginning of the _Aelael_2 War, a war that lasted 1200 years. ThaeraekaesWindguard still influences the lives of _Jhondraelaer_ today."

"Very good," Myrdyl agreed easily. "But do all _Pasaelaer_ do this?"

"At one time, _Jhondraelaer_ were widely hated by _Pasaelaer_," Tylia replied, almost agreeing. "But today, it is only a small sect who calls itself the _Serdyr_3 in our tongue who commit these tragedies."

"Very good. Since you know the material so well, you may go early."

"Thank you, Papa!" Tylia laughed with a bow. She kissed his cheek as he chuckled.

"Tyl!" Tylia turned, surprised at the sound of her childhood nickname from his lips; Myrdyl had not called her that in almost six years.

Myrdyl looked glorious in his simple, silvery clothing, shedding rain as though covered in oil. The crystal drops slid down his finely boned face and, for the barest moment, Tylia thought he was crying. But no, he looked so happy…

"I thought you might like to know that a pair of fourth-year gentlemen came to my office yesterday afternoon." Tylia nodded; she knew that already. "The first, a young man with gray eyes—one Scorpius, I believe—wanted to know of us, of _Jhondraelaer_ and _Pasaelaer_. I answered his questions gladly. The second, a blue-eyed young man I am unfamiliar with—"

"Albus Potter," Tylia supplied instantly. Her father regarded her for a moment, and then nodded, as though just remembering that he had shut Petrius out of his chambers the evening before.

"So he introduced himself, yes," the _Jhondraelaer_ agreed, still standing full in the cold rain. Tylia had slipped under a thickly branched tree. "He was no less curious, though his topic of interest was less broad. He wanted to know of _you."_

"So Petrius informed me, yes," his daughter responded, mimicking her father's words and tone almost perfectly. Myrdyl grinned.

"Of course. And is _my_ gift to you so precious as your mother's?"

"Certainly," Tylia replied, feigning injury that he would think her capable of favoring Jallil over him. "Korthus is as good a friend and companion as Petrius."

Myrdyl nodded and laughed, turning his face up to receive the rain as his daughter trotted back up to the Castle to get her breakfast from the kitchens and go to her classes, thinking about many things: about Thaeraekaes and how much she mimicked him; about how long she wanted to toy with Albus before talking to him; about her crazy _Jhondraelael_ father, laughing in rain that would have had a human shaking from the cold.

Seven times over the next two days, Tylia met Albus' clear, light blue eyes and then vanished into the crowded halls of Hogwarts. It was quite a feat, even for her, given her unique appearance, but she managed. Each time, she paused, grinned that hunter's grin, and turned away. Each time, she heard him call her name—her '_Jhondraelael_ version', without her mother's _Pasaelael_ name attached—as she hid from his sharp eyes.

The third day was a Saturday. Tylia grinned as she woke from her trance. Saturdays were free. No need to get up at five in the morning for lessons on _Jhondraelael_ culture with Myrdyl, no staying up until two the _following_ morning because of the old _Pasaelael_ rituals Jallil was always teaching her about.

Granted, she got up at five in the morning anyway, out of habit.

The cold rain of the last two days had turned into steady snow overnight. Tylia loved snow. She smiled a softer sort of smile as Petrius trotted in.

"Well?" she inquired, tossing him a piece of meat.

_He is awake. _The feline caught the piece in midair and downed it before his pause touched the floor. _He seeks you. He is frustrated, but thinks you cannot hide from him forever._

"So he _thinks,_" Tylia agreed with that fierce, hunter's grin. _The grin of a __Pasaer__, _she thought with amusement. "I _could_. But I won't. I know how much torture that would be for him."

_Indeed._ Petrius was as amused as she.

"Where is he? What does he plan?"

_He recently received a present from his father,_ Petrius replied, yawning and stretching. _An early birthday present: his birthday is today. The present was a map of Hogwarts, a magical map._

"And he means to seek me on this map?" Tylia inquired, her mind already racing ahead. _I'll need a present for him, then._

_Yes. What will you give him?_

Tylia laughed. Even when she kept her thoughts to herself, her friend could guess them.

"One of my talismans, I think. One of the hybrids, so like to myself, who seems to fascinate him very much." Tylia rifled through her trunk until she found the small, plain wooden box in which she kept her carved pendants. She let her fingers slide through them, feeling for one that suited Albus. Finally, she decided on a small, round pendant with melded _Pasaelael_ and _Jhondraelael_ symbols for luck and protection.

_Perhaps young Master Malfoy would appreciate one as well,_ Petrius suggested sleepily. _As interested as he is in magical cultures._

"I'll give him three," Tylia replied, slipping her fingers through the myriad pendants again. She had carved each one herself and knew each by feel. "One of each sort."

Petrius nodded his approval as she selected three more pendants. The first, carved with _Jhondraelael_ symbols, was for good luck. The second was _Pasaelael_ and would bring the young man protection from magical harm. The last, another of her hybrids, was a ward against the bad luck brought on by past misdeeds, the misdeeds of the family.

"Where was he when you left him?"

_He thought to look for you in the Library. He has seen you there often in the past._

"Thanks, Pet." Tylia scratched the large carnivore just at the base of his ear, where he liked it most. She loved the resulting soft rumble that was his purr. "I'll bring you another steak for your trouble."

_That will be pleasant,_ Petrius replied sleepily. He had been up all night, which was unusual for him. _Thank you, Tylia. You are kinder to me than most are to their pa'das._

"You deserve it," Tylia countered gruffly, touched by his words. "You work hard for me. You're the best Breeze a girl could ask for. And the best friend."

Tylia meandered toward the Library. As it was a Saturday, she was out of uniform. Today she wore a dark silvery cloak over a white sleeveless shirt with a tall collar and silvery breeches not quite as dark as her cloak. Notably, she wore no shoes and no socks even on the cold flagstones.

Her bare feet made no sound on the stone floors as she wandered toward the Library. Surely Albus would have seen her on his pretty new map by now. After five minutes or so, she heard booted steps in the hallway up ahead. With a grin, she turned down a different hall, still not moving very quickly. She was rewarded as her sharp ears picked up the sounds of a soft curse and quickened steps.

With the ease born of long practice, she slipped into a secret passage—which would take her up to the fifth floor—without making the tapestry that concealed it so much as flutter.

Idly, she wondered if Albus' map showed the secret passageways and how well he himself knew them. Headed up the stairs, she heard the thud of his boots and the ruffle of the tapestry as he followed. She nodded satisfaction as she made her way out the other side of the dark shortcut.

Here she paused, as though puzzled. She was in an apparently dead-end corridor. She wandered down to the end, and then started back toward the other side. As she passed the tapestry, Albus emerged. She paid him no mind, but continued.

"Tylandraes Windguard." Tylia could hear the barely controlled frustration in the younger student's voice and it amused her. She turned to face him, her eyes and face flat, clear of emotion.

"You've been following me. Why?" Her voice was not accusatory, merely curious.

"Don't play the innocent with me, Elfling," Albus retorted. The tag was not even necessarily untruthful, either. She was a 'little Elf', regardless of which of her ancestries she was claiming at the moment. "You know I have been, and I'm sure you know why. You've met my eyes more than once over the last three days. And that cursed telepathic cat of yours has been follo—"

He fell silent very very suddenly as Tylia slammed him against the wall of the corridor, her once calm eyes bright and furious.

"I will not hear of a single word against Petrius," she growled, her voice low and harsh. Her arm across his throat and shoulders, but she applied no pressure. "He is a fine creature, and a better person than many two-leggers I've met."

Albus nodded and she released him. Far from being frightened, he looked thoughtful.

_I can defend myself, you know, Tylia,_ a dry voice commented to both two-leggers.

Albus turned quickly to face Petrius, who had sauntered up behind her. Tylia turned more slowly, noting with wry amusement that the blue-eyed Gryffindor had sacrificed balance for speed; he was no fighter.

"I didn't know you were here, Petrius," she replied easily, raising skeptical brows to him. "Last time I saw you, you were half asleep in my dorm."

"It is a pleasure to meet you at last," Albus commented with a light bow, so like the ones that Tylia often gave to friends and family. "You've been following me for four days now. How you got into the Gryffindor Common Room, I'll never know."

_The pleasure is mine, Master Potter,_ Petrius replied, giving a feline bow in return. _That you knew I was with you is impressive. Most cannot track a pa'das when he is scouting. As for the room with red and gold furnishings, no such room is closed to me, though I may take nothing from the rooms. None of these rooms are barred to me: not the silver and green room, not the yellow and black one and not the blue and black one, either._

"You have access to _all_ of the Common Rooms?" Albus marveled, thinking of the implications. "Do you know the passwords?"

_No, Master Potter. The Guardians are instructed to let me pass. I may take none with me when I enter._

"Don't call me 'Master,'" Albus requested absently, going over what he had just learned as Tylia waited patiently. "Just 'Albus' will do for me."

_As you say, Albus,_ the feline agreed easily. _And I am Petrius, a Pasaelael pa'das bonded to Tylandraes Windguard-Zauval._

"What's that word? '_Padas_?'" Albus asked, coming out of his reverie. "You've said it twice now."

"_Pa'das_," Tylia corrected, pronouncing the _Pasaelael_ word carefully for Albus' benefit.

"_Pa'das__,"_ Albus repeated, getting the pronunciation correct the second time. Petrius came to sit next to Tylia wrapping his tail possessively around her bare ankles.

"They are _Pasaelael_-bred felines," Tylia continued, in answer to his question. "They are telepathic and friendly, at least to those favored by their Bonds."

"'Bonds?'" Albus inquired quickly, earning himself a glare from Tylia for interrupting.

"Each _Pasaer_ is telepathically Bonded to a _pa'das_ at birth." Tylia continued as though Albus had not spoken. It was a trick she had picked up from her mother. "The _pa'das_, itself newborn, is the size of a housecat's kitten when Bonded. The two grow together. When the _Pasaer_ is fully mature, the _pa'das_ is as well."

_A fully-grown pa'das is the size of what you would call a Bengal tiger,_ Petrius added, stretching so that his already large, sharp teeth and fore claws showed.

_Show off, _Tylia drawled for him alone.

_So? It suits me to show off now and again,_ Petrius replied, his voice full of amusement.

She shook her head at him as Albus gaped at the panther-sized feline. He was still not to his full size yet.

"But you never answered my question," Tylia reminded the Gryffindor in the resulting stillness. "Why were you following me?"

"You interest me." Albus shrugged, looking and sounding much as Tylia herself did often enough. "Ever since I first saw you, watching me with those emerald eyes from the Ravenclaw table at the Welcoming Feast my first day here. You've a unique look, and I like uniqueness. From what I've heard of you, you've a unique way of doing things, too. Would you believe that Teddy had never heard of someone like you?"

"Yes, I can believe it," Tylia shrugged just as he had done. "I'm the only recorded hybrid, the only _Orondralas_4, ever. _Jhondraelaer_ and _Pasaelaer_ generally do not get along, even now, when the _Aelael_ War is long over."

"It seems that Professors Jallil and Windguard are exceptions to many things," Albus murmured, looking thoughtful again. "Does your mother have a _pa'das__?"_

"No. My mother does not _own_ her companion, as you imply," Tylia replied easily, used to the confusion that humans found in such a relationship. Petrius, growing bored, rose and trotted away. "However, my mother's companion _pa'das_ is called Verzak. She is less kind and less intelligent than Petrius—some are so—and Mother keeps her out of the classroom."

"So Jallil _is_ your mother," Albus said, those clear blue eyes caught on Tylia's deep green. "Professor Windguard was very fuzzy about that. It was the _only_ thing that he wouldn't give me a straight answer to."

"Think about it, Albus," Tylia replied, sounding slightly exasperated. "There are no other couples among the staff. Your father works here; your mother at the Ministry. It is the same with Professors Longbottom, Weasley and Smith. A couple at the same business is _bad_ business. It's one reason Father goes by his original name and not 'Zauval.'"

"In _Pasaelael_ marriages, the wife's name is taken?"

"Yes, _Pasaelaer_ are matriarchal," Tylia agreed. His curiosity pleased her. "The female always has more status. _Jhondraelaer_ are patriarchal, or as close as a society can come to being equiarchal, with male and female on the same level. _Jhondraelael_ marriages take the husband's name."

A sharp cry echoed through the hallway, the high, shrieking cry of a hawk. Albus jumped, but Tylia merely looked up and through a window over Albus' head.

"Yes?" she inquired of the small bird of prey fluttering there.

The bird gave voice to a string of shrieks, caws and other avian sounds that made no sense to Albus.

"Alright, meet me there," Tylia replied, turning back to the human in front of her, who was staring.

"Did you just have a conversation with a _hawk?_" he demanded.

"Yes, and she expects me in my dorm shortly, so I need to go." Tylia pulled the four pendants out of her pocket, separating Albus' one from Scorpius' three. This one's for you. Happy birthday. These three are for that gray-eyed Slytherin friend of yours. Tell him that they're a gift from one culture lover to another."

"Is the hawk your…"

"Companion, yes, her name is Korthus," Tylia agreed just before slipping into another alcove. A statuette stood there. She slipped behind it and whispered: "_Odael iar_5."

It was _Jhondraelael_ slang for 'open up,' and the password to a little-known passage. Headmistress McGonnagal had used the _Jhondraelael _word on Myrdyl's recommendation.

Just as Albus turned into the alcove, the wall slid shut behind Tylia's fluttering silver cloak.

* * *

1All Elvish peoples save the Pasaelaer refer to the sun as a female. The Pasaelaer, given their penchant for darkness and nightfall, reverse this, calling the moon female and the sun male.

2Elven

3Literally 'realblood;' a cult of Pasaelaer who continue the tragedies of the past

4Literally 'of light and dark;' Tylia's word for herself, which has become the commonly accepted term for her in Jhondraelael society

5Open up


	4. Chapter 3

**Chapter Three: Letters From Abroad**

"Who is it this time, Korthus?" Tylia inquired, sitting on her bed as the lithe hawk glided in. She dropped four envelopes on the coverlet and took her place on the perch Tylia had set up for her the first day.

Korthus was a _Jhondraelael_ _sholol_1_, _a companion hawk, about the size of a European merlin, but with metallic blue feathers on the tips of her wings. While Tylia had always thought of them as '_Jhondraelael_ hawks', the truth was that _sholol_ were intelligent, with a culture and language of their own. They could even understand the speech of two-leggers, if they were exposed to the language. Unlike _pa'das_ that Bonded to their _Pasaer_, hawks such as Korthus _chose_ their _Jhondraelaer_, though the association was often kept within families. The _sholol_ who had chosen Myrdyl—Karian—was Korthus' father. The _sholol_who claimed Tylia's Grandpapa was Karian's mother, Kestral. _Sholol_ could leave their chosen _Jhondraelaer,_ while _pa'das_ were with their Bonds for life.

Among the other useful things that she did, Korthus carried Tylia's mail for her. As the hawk let loose another string of bird-sounds in answer to her question, Tylia scooped up the envelopes. She smothered a happy—but very loud and undignified—squeal when she saw that one envelope was black, addressed in silver and the other was addressed in rich green ink. The third was plainly addressed from a _Jhondraelael_ friend of hers, but the last she did not recognize.

"Grandpapa, Uncle, Maerosi and _who?_" Tylia asked the hawk.

Korthus gave a bird's shrug and trilled, which signified an unknown. The person had wanted to send her a letter and so Korthus had shown up. It had taken a moment to convince the person—the _man_—to allow the hawk to carry the letter, but in the end he had been very kind and had given her some venison before she left.

"Well, he can wait, whoever he is," Tylia replied, tossing all but the plain envelope aside. Maerosi was chatty, as most _Jhondraelael_ females were, talking about whom this aunt had been flirting with and that that cousin was sick. The only real news she got from this favorite of her informal Breezes was that she had been chosen to be one of Her Majesty's _eisadael_2, a high honor and an excellent place to gather important information, all unwitting, of course.

Tylia tossed the letter to the end of the bed; she would script an equally chatty response later. For now, she slotted open the letter addressed in green in a slanting, looping script that Tylia had always loved as Korthus creeled and soared out the window again. This one was from Grandpapa Myrdaeraes, a man she mimicked almost as much as she mimicked Thaeraekaes, his father.

This letter was more formal, full of secrets. In every letter, Myrdaeraes gave her his latest gleanings, knowing both that she liked to stay informed and that she could keep her mouth shut. Today's letter included many new things, as well as the appointment of Maerosi to _eisadael_ and one other thing:

_'The Serdyr are becoming strong again. While most Pasaelaer are becoming ever more friendly with Jhondraelaer, this group continues its hatred. I cannot understand it. My Breezes can no longer stand to keep their posts within the Serdyr, and I will not force them to do such terrible things, as they must to remain. Three of my Breezes I have lost in the last cestal3 year to the Greater Winds4, two more I fear will take that option. Among those five are three of my best; two already lost. My information on the Serdyr will soon dry up; this will not do. They are our greatest threat, both Jhondraelaer and Pasaelaer**.**'_

The letter was signed 'with heart and hope, Myrdaeraes.' Tylia stretched out on the bed with a sigh, knowing full well what her Grandpapa wanted from her, what he meant by 'with hope.' The only thing that worried her was whether she could convince some of her _Pasaelael_ friends to agree to collect information for her. Perhaps her Uncle could help.

The black letter, written in silver ink—real, molten silver, cooled on the paper—was from said Uncle, Vlosorbb. She loved this man, whose name—like so many _Pasaelael_ names—translated into something unpleasant by human standards. Her uncle's name translated to 'Bloodspider' in English. Spiders were revered in _Pasaelael_ tradition and religion, and many _Pasaelaer_ had names reflecting that. Vlosorbb's letter was short and worried, which worried Tylia. Her Uncle was one of the most collected, calm people she knew. When _he_ worried, _she_ worried.

So unlike her Grandfather's, Vlosorbb's handwriting was rough, even, well, _spidery_. He was much sought-after as a scribe in the Underdark's hierarchy, though it was certainly not a chore that he was required to perform.

_'To my niece,_

_I am not pleased with the state of things here in the Underdark. 'An unpleased Sekevlos5 is a dangerous Sekevlos,' as the tonaikvlos6 always say. It's this group; the ones that call themselves 'Trantzvlos7' You know I bear them no allegiance, Drathirdalharil._ (Tylia shook her head at her Uncle's insistence upon translating her _Jhondraelael _name into the _Pasaelael_ language.) _You know I disagree with their ways. But more and more often, they find ways to make their demands appeal to our minds. They are corrupting our young people. Those whom you counted as allies here have renounced you as such, shaming themselves and their Houses with such behavior. Only one I know still holds you an ally: Vloschath Kenret._

_Our house, that of Zauval, has come under scorn of late, because of Jallilvlos' choice of a mate and because our matriarch neither exiled nor killed her and nor will she order you killed. That Jallilvlos seems to have gone into a self-imposed exile makes no difference. Our matriarch will not submit to this pressure from our peers and Her Ladyship does not say that we are to be punished. Nor does she say that the scorn must stop. What do you think of this? You know that I value your input, d'ssussun lu'olath8 or no. Tell me your thoughts._

_—Vlosorbb'_

With a sigh, Tylia rubbed her temples, allowing the black paper to fall. Why these two great men, both centuries older and wiser than she was, thought she could help them was beyond her, but they did. It was kind of flattering, actually: Myrdaeraes was Personal Spymaster to the _Jhondraelael_ King and Queen, as well as the Chief General of Their Majesties' armies; Vlosorbb was Consort to the current Lady of the Spider, the highest ranking male in _Pasaelael_ society. It was a position of high honor and responsibility, equal or exceeding Myrdaeraes'.

She would simply have to do her best not to disappoint them.

Placing Vlosorbb's letter with the other two, she picked up the fourth. It was a plain letter, like Maerosi's, save that the address was more detailed, written in a precise, clear hand. It worried Tylia a little; the address read: 'Miss Tylandraes Windguard Zauval; Northern Bed, Fourth Dorm Up; Ravenclaw House; Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.' The information was accurate. How a stranger had come by such detailed information on her without her knowledge piqued Tylia's curiosity a little.

She slit it open, pulling out three pages. One was in English, written in a clear, precise hand. The other two pages were covered in _Jhondraelael _and _Pasaelael _scripts, well written, though it was obvious that a human had written them. Tylia didn't bother translating the pages—being more interested, for the moment, in this mystery man. Instead, she placed those papers aside.

_'Miss Tylandraes:_

_Please forgive me on two counts. The first is that I would be so informal as to call you by your first name. I have heard that both your cultures prize formality, but I do not know whether you go by one or the other of your last names, or some combination of the two. The second is that I would send this letter to you when you do not know me. I was going to send it through a relative of mine who knows you, but this charming little hawk showed up on my windowsill and quite insisted that she take it to you instead. I gave her a bit of venison; I hope it didn't do her any harm. Give her my thanks, if you would, she seemed quite intelligent._

_I'm sure that by now you're curious as to who I am, if you haven't peeked at my signature already._ (Tylia had not, and resisted the urge to do so now.) _My name is Theodore Lupin, called by some 'Teddy.' A young relative of mine—the same one I referenced above—mentioned you to me and you caught my interest. I have always been fascinated by Jhondraelael culture and that of the Pasaelael as well. I have heard whispers, but never met one myself. And then I recieved a rather rude letter from my godbrother saying that he has a mysterious 'Elven' hybrid on his hands and that he knows both of her parents!_

_The enclosed pages are scripts that I can only assume are from your two cultures; I have never seen their like before. Can you translate them for me? I have been curious for some time as to what they mean. I would be in your debt. It would please me to no end if you would reply to this letter._

_Hoping to be friends,_

_Theodore Lupin'_

_Quite a chatterer, that one._ Tylia jumped slightly at the suddenness of Petrius' calm, clear voice in her mind. Petrius was stretched at the foot of her bed, and she could hear rustles from her dormmates. _Well, both of them, anyway._

"What do you mean?" Tylia asked quietly, turning so that her head was at the foot of the bed, nearer to the _pa'das_.

_The young Master, telling his godbrother of you,_ Petrius replied with a feline shrug.

"I suppose he must have become quite frustrated with me." Tylia shrugged the near-accusation away easily. "I'm sure he wanted someone to talk of me with."

_And this new Master, this Lupin, so long a letter to someone he has only ever heard of. Very chatty._

"From what I've heard, he's very friendly," Tylia replied to this latest comment. "And he's like me; he lives a double life."

_Oh?_

Before Tylia could explain, two of the girls in her dorm struggled out of bed. One, Beka Smith, sneered at her.

"You're not talking to that great ugly cat of yours again, are you?" she drawled. She was from the States, and it showed in her soft Southern accent.

Unlike her explosive reaction to Albus' insult to Petrius, Tylia merely watched Beka with tired resignation. Beka was one of those people who could never like Tylia or Petrius: they were simply too different. She insulted Petrius out of fear; Albus had done so out of carelessness. Petrius, on the other hand, rose gracefully to his feet, a snarl lifting his lip to show one of his long, gleaming fangs. He made no sound, but took a single step toward Beka. She squealed and backed up so quickly that she tripped over her own trunk and landed on her bed. The other girl, Eileen Morani, laughed. _She_ had liked Tylia and her companions from the first day, and they had liked her. She knew of Petrius' pride and his dislike of insults.

"Beka, haven't you heard that such cats are like hippogryphs?" Eileen inquired, a laughing trill in her voice. Petrius turned curious eyes on her, his snarl smoothing out. "You told me yesterday that you had been transferred into the Seventh Year Care of Magical Creatures Class, and that your first lesson had been on hippogryphs. What was the first thing that the professor told you?"

"Always let the _beast_ make the first move?" Beka replied, spitting venom at the girl who was defending Tylia.

"Alright, fine," Eileen sighed, her silvery eyes flashing her annoyance as Petrius growled at Beka. She squeaked again, but got to her feet and began to collect the day's clothes as he trotted back to Tylia's bed. "Tylia, sweet, what _should_ have been the first thing Beka heard during that lesson?"

"'Hippogryphs are very prideful creatures,'" Tylia recited easily; it was information that Myrdyl required her to memorize. "'_Never_ insult a hippogryph: it may be the last thing you ever do.'"

"It's just lucky for _you,_ Beka," Eileen agreed, crossing the room to stand near Petrius. She nonchalantly reached down and scratched the large feline behind the ear and was rewarded by a loud, rumbling purr that made Beka jump again. "That, while hippogryphs run mostly on instinct, Petrius, here, is intelligent."

Beka _harrumphed _her opinion of that statement and darted out of the room, her red curls flying behind her.

"So much for defending yourself, eh, Pet?" Tylia laughed as Beka fled.

_As if I would speak to that!_ Petrius replied in his haughtiest voice, giving her a scandalized look. _A being that attacks another simply out of fear and ignorance. You demean me, Tylandraes._

"I apologize," Tylia replied, still laughing. Until, that is, she caught sight of the shocked look on Eileen's face and realized that Petrius must not have spoken to her before.

"Was that _you,_ Petrius?" The _pa'das_ looked up at her and gently rubbed his head against her still hand.

_Of course it was me,_ he replied easily. _Why did you stop? Surely you're not surprised, or at least not too surprised; you said yourself that I'm intelligent._

"I've seen you do some uncanny things," Eileen agreed uneasily, though she resumed scratching his ears as she met his unnerving ruby gaze. "But I never imagined you could _talk,_ much less that you were telepathic. Can you read my mind? And I only said those things to shut Beka up. She's so judgmental."

_I can read minds of a sort,_ Petrius replied cryptically.

"What he means is that he can hear a person's thoughts when their minds are loud and undisciplined," Tylia interpreted with a crooked grin. "When they're upset, or angry, or just have no control over their minds. I don't think he can read yours. You're too...organized."

_Quite,_ Petrius agreed, sounding just a bit put out that he had been explained. Eileen nodded, looking slightly relieved, and then laughed as Petrius thrust his large, wet, cold nose into the base of her neck.

"Thanks for sticking up for him," Tylia added as she watched Eileen begin to get dressed.

"No problem," Eileen shrugged expressively. "I'm hungry. Wanna come to breakfast?"

"Sure, but there's a reason I never take my meals with the school, you know," Tylia warned as she gathered up the letters and locked them in her trunk.

"Oh? I noticed you were never there," Eileen returned, looking up from tying her shoes. "Most people—not me and my group, but people like Beka—think you're just stuck up."

"I get tired of the looks and the whispers," Tylia admitted with a sigh. "So I take my meals in the Kitchens, same as I get Petrius' food."

"Well, come down with me," Eileen encouraged. "I'll introduce you to some of my friends, and we can ignore the looks and the whispers together. If the people I introduce you to turn out like Beka…well, then I shouldn't have been friends with them in the first place, huh? I've never heard my friends whispering about you…well, not after the first week or so, when _everyone_ was."

"And only you had the nerve to talk _to_ me instead of _about_ me, at first." It wasn't true anymore. Tylia had sixteen Breezes in the school alone, plus a couple of people she counted as friends, but it had been true five years ago, when she had started at Hogwarts.

"_I'm _not afraid of anything that's new," Eileen retorted sourly. "C'mon. How _can_ you walk around the school in the dead of winter with no shoes or socks?"

"It's not so cold," Tylia shrugged with a smile. As the two friends reached the hallway, Eileen stooped over to let her fingers brush the heavy stone floor. She shivered and Tylia laughed.

Many of Eileen's friends accepted Tylia only grudgingly, which was the best that Tylia had come to expect from most _cestal._ One, a Seventh year gentleman, accepted Tylia's addition to the group with enthusiasm.

His name was Raoul Dupont and he was an intimidating figure. When he rose to welcome the two girls, Tylia examined him with a cool eye until he grinned and shrugged, resuming his seat without gracing her with the bear hug that he had given to Eileen.

Raoul stood 6' 4" to Tylia's 5' 10", had curly black hair and intelligent black eyes. He was burly and muscular, as though he worked out—or sparred—often. He smiled easily and she was to learn that he very rarely showed any display of temper.

"Sit down, Ash," Raoul told her with a grin, offering her the seat between himself and Eileen.

"'Ash?'" Tylia inquired without taking the seat. Eileen laughed and stood on the offered chair to ruffle the taller Ravenclaw's hair.

"C'mon, Tylia, he's harmless," she assured Tylia with a smile as she jumped off the chair and resumed her own seat, selecting her breakfast as she spoke. "And he likes nicknames. Mine's—"

"Ebony, for her hair," Raoul interrupted easily, piling his own plate as Tylia took her seat at last. "I'd call you 'Silver,' but _she's_ already got that one."

Raoul jerked his thumb toward the Staff Table, where Jallil was just finding her own seat. Mother and daughter locked eyes for the barest moment, nodded and looked away.

"You nickname the teachers?" Tylia asked idly, transferring sausages and eggs and toast to her plate.

"Raoul nicknames _everybody,_" Eileen retorted, tossing a bit of sausage over Tylia's head toward the man. Tylia laughed when he caught it effortlessly in his mouth.

"Nice to see a girl who eats like she wants to live," Raoul commented. When she turned questioning eyes to him, he pointed first at her plate and then down the table to a cluster of girls, all of whom combined had perhaps half the food on their plates that she had on hers alone.

"I like living," Tylia replied with uncharacteristic frankness. "Living is so much more interesting than being dead, as far as I know."

Her comment was rewarded by a bass chuckle as she began to eat. When she had devoured upward of seven sausages, six people—four girls and two boys, all Ravenclaws of varying years—walked up to the table where Tylia and her two friends were sitting. Four of them sat down after glancing between Tylia, Eileen and Raoul and shrugging. A Fifth year girl and Sixth year boy remained standing. When Tylia looked up and across the table, she noticed that both looked openly incredulous.

"Eileen, _really,_" began the girl. Eileen looked up, her eyes hard. "Just because you're forced to room with It doesn't mean that you have to bring It to breakfast."

"Raoul, don't tell me you're talking to _That,_" the boy added, raising his eyebrows to the larger Ravenclaw.

'_It.' 'That.' And I thought I would be free of such terms if I ate with a friend,_ Tylia thought, and her eyes were impassive as she looked at the two, though her thoughts were full of self-loathing for her optimism.

"Karla, no one forced me to invite _her_," Eileen retorted with surprising mildness, given the way her bright silver eyes were snapping with anger. She put slight emphasis on the feminine pronoun. "I brought her on my own. She's a good friend of mine. Tylia's welcome to eat with me and my friends anytime."

Eileen smiled at Tylia, who smiled back slightly, but did not look away from Karla and her companion. Raoul smiled at the boy and gestured for him to sit in an empty seat across from them.

"Jacob, really, such a thing to say!" he laughed easily. His laugh was a bass rumble not unlike Petrius' purr. "Come, sit down, and talk with her. Tylia's a sweetheart, and she has an excellent sense of humor. You know how hard it is to find a girl with one of _those!"_

He smiled apologetically in Eileen's direction, who waved it away. Jacob shook his head at Raoul and looked to Eileen.

"_It's_ not welcome to sit with _me!_" Karla replied sounding exceedingly stuck up.

Eileen stood up slowly as a light blush appeared on Tylia's cheeks. She wasn't one to let others fight her battles, and it embarrassed her to let Raoul and Eileen defend her now, but these were _their_ friends.

"Then I suggest you sit somewhere else, Karla Parkinson," Eileen replied, a warning very clear in her voice. Tylia thought that if _she_ had been on the receiving end of that ice-cold comment, not to mention the glare, she would have shuddered. As it was, she made a mental note to stay on Eileen's good side. "Perhaps you should join your older brother at the Slytherin table. You're starting to sound like him."

"Eileen, that was uncalled for!" Jacob objected as Karla sputtered, apparently too shocked and affronted to speak. "To insult a friend in defense of _That_! You don't even know what It is! It doesn't even defend Itself!"

"No friend of mine would insult another!" Eileen snapped back, glaring at Jacob. Tylia stood up slowly and she could feel the eyes of her fellow Ravenclaws on her, as well as those of several of the teachers.

"I am Tylandraes Windguard-Zauval," she began in a clear voice that she knew would carry. As much as she would hate the whispers that this would cause, it had become necessary. "I am _Jhondraelael_ and _Pasaelael_ and _Orondralas_ and I am proud to be so. I am the only blending of two high, fine cultures that have existed since before humans could form coherent thoughts. Two great families come together in me and two clashing races find a modicum of peace. Accept me and be still, or reject me and be silent. I do not ask that you be my friend, only that you not taunt me and whisper behind my back. If you have something to say, let it be heard."

Tylia knew that there was a great deal of pride in her voice, but Myrdyl looked pleased. Jallil voiced a shrill whistle that sounded not unlike the hunting cry of a _sholol_ and Tylia knew that she, too, approved. The entire hall was silent as the halfbreed gave her two insulters look for look, as calm as though they were debating something in class.

A woman with short, spiky blackish-red hair and deep blue eyes walked down from the staff table and stopped just next to Jacob.

"Do we have a problem here?" she inquired, raising thin, arched brows as she looked over the odd group.

"I don't think they've decided yet, Professor Sinistra," Tylia replied honestly without taking her sharp jade eyes off of Jacob and Karla. Iris Sinistra was head of Ravenclaw House and Tylia respected her a great deal. "_I_ have no problem here. Nor do Eileen or Raoul, I think." Both nodded their agreement. "These two, though, are not so sure."

"Miss Parkinson, Mister Tebok? Is there a problem here?" the Astronomy teacher repeated coolly.

"No, Professor," Jacob sighed, turning and walking down the table to take a seat elsewhere. After a moment, Karla jeered at Tylia and followed.

"Not bad, Miss Elf," the Professor murmured for Tylia's ears alone, leaning over the table so that no one else would hear. The Fifth-year nodded and Iris returned to her place at the staff table. The Astronomy teacher always called her 'Miss Elf' when they were speaking privately. She held that it was easier than trying to say her tongue twister of a foreign name.

Tylia and Eileen sat down slowly and Tylia immediately went back to her food. Eileen and Raoul exchanged a glance over Tylia's bent head.

"You'll make yourself sick, eating like that," Raoul suggested uneasily.

"Will not," Eileen replied when Tylia said nothing, but merely continued to eat rather quickly. "Her physiology's different from ours. Right?"

"Right," Tylia agreed after another moment as she finished the last of her food and stood up. Eileen caught her by the arm as she turned to go.

"About Karla and Jacob—" she began, her silvery eyes dark with worry.

"Don't worry about it, Eileen," Tylia interrupted gently, smiling at her friend. "I'm used to _rivvil_9 like them. And thanks, again, for sticking up for me. You too, Raoul. It was great to meet you."

"Ash!" Raoul called as she walked away.

"See you at lunch!" Tylia called without looking back. Eileen grinned with relief, knowing that Tylia wasn't upset.

* * *

1Literally 'wingfriend;' an intelligent species of hawk that associates itself with Jhondraelaer

2Armsmaiden, a position of high prestige and moderate power in Jhondraelael society

3Human

4The commonly accepted Jhondraelael term for suicide

5Literally 'trueblood;' the Pasaelael word for themselves

6Literally 'dirty blood;' the Pasaelael word for Jhondraelaer

7Literally 'real blood;' the Pasaelael word for the Serdyr

8Literally 'of light and dark;' a Pasaelael phrase for someone like Tylia. Note: There are ruder terms. Vlosorbb uses a polite form because Tylia is his beloved niece

9Humans; Tylia uses the Undercommon version here rather than the Jhondraelael because it sounds more foul


	5. Chapter 4

**Chapter Four: Replies**

Content—for the most part—Tylia returned to her dorm. She liked her new friend. He was easy on the eyes and very nice. She smiled that vicious, _Pasaelael_ grin again as she thought that people like Karla and Jacob and Beka should be very glad that she wasn't as vindictive and vengeful as her mother was.

The _Orondralas_ shook her head, amused at the world at large, as she removed the four letters from her trunk to script the expected replies. If she _didn't_ reply to even one of them—except perhaps Theodore Lupin's—she would never hear the end of it as long as she lived. And, seeing as she was the daughter of two near-immortal races, that could be a very long time indeed.

The first three would be easiest. Maerosi's was long and chatty, telling the newly appointed _eisadael_ about her various Interests, new developments in her classes and of the rumors that Myrdaeraes wanted whispered about in the palace. Of course, Maerosi was never to know that the rumors came from the Spymaster. With a slightly bitter smile, Tylia sealed the envelope. She didn't like using Maerosi, as useful as the much older _Jhondraelaer_ might be.

The written reply to Myrdaeraes was brief and formal. She told him everything she could, things that she had heard of from Maerosi or her parents, things that he would want to hear. She thanked him for his information, sent him her love and signed the letter 'With strength and love, Tylandraes.' Myrdaeraes would know that she was doing what she could.

For Vlosorbb, she wrote in copper as he had written in silver. She used a special _Pasaer_-made pen that melted and froze the copper almost simultaneously. She wrote asking Vlosorbb to pass her best wishes on to their Matriarch and her thanks to Her Ladyship and again signed in a manner that told him that she would try to help.

But it was the return letter to Theodore Lupin that she had been anticipating most. This relationship should get very interesting, very fast. Before she began the reply, she scanned the two pages covered in _Aelael_ scripts, her eyes widening as she read. How had he come by these words?

She began to write, admiring her own handwriting after paying attention to the scripts of others. Hers was small and clear, with plenty of flourishes. She liked making her letters look nice.

_'Theodore._

_You are forgiven. I give you credit for being polite, as well. Some humans have not even that much common sense. Please, call me 'Tylia,' almost everyone does. Your letter is welcome; it intrigues me that you should have heard of Jhondraelaer or Pasaelaer—it surprises me that you should spell them both so accurately._

_As for the 'hawk,' she calls herself Korthus and she is what Jhondraelaer call a sholol, a 'wingfriend,' in English. She is highly intelligent, and was pleased with the snack. I thank you for being so kind to her and it speaks well of you that you knew her to be intelligent; so many two-leggers are not now so wise. She says that you are welcome._

_Albus Potter mentioned you to me. From what little he said, I take it that you study magical cultures or some such; he assumed that you would know of me and seemed quite astonished that you did not. How did you first hear of my two peoples?_

_The translations to your scripts—which were very well scribed, for a human—are simple for me and yet involve complications. The first three state the names of weapons and also the names of their original owners. The complication comes when it is realized that these three weapons are considered 'lost' by their cultures, as they have not been seen in well over two millennia. Where did you find them? They were lost at the beginning of the Aelael War. In any case, the final script is from a music box that was also lost a good deal of time ago, which once belonged to my father's family._

_The return of these items would be greatly appreciated, if you would care to part with them. The action—a human giving back freely a lost treasure of their peoples—would also go a long way toward assuaging the mistrust between our three kindreds._

_Friends._

_Tylandraes Windguard Zauval'_

_A rather long letter to say very little, _Petrius commented dryly.

"Do you realize what this human _has_?" Tylia demanded, looking up at the large feline. He yawned, evidently uninterested. "The sword he has belonged to the Lady who was martyred during the War. The knife and bow _and_ quiver belong to the _Jhondraelael_ Royal Family and were lost when the Crown Prince was killed in the second battle of the War. The music box should, by all rights, be in the hands of my Grandmama, Thaeraekaes' wife. The sword belonged to one of the Ladies at the beginning of the War."

A further yawn proved his supreme disinterest in such petty, two-legger matters.

_Humanoids get so caught up in matters of the past,_ Petrius commented as she sealed the envelopes and addressed them carefully and clearly. _Why can you all not live in the present?_

"If we did not learn from the past, we would have no future," Tylia replied earnestly, putting the letters into her school back until such time as she saw Korthus again. Knowing the _sholol_, it might be anywhere from an hour to a week.

_Forget the future,_ Petrius suggested. Tylia glanced at him, startled to hear the gravity in his mind-voice. His scarlet gaze was steady and deadly serious. _Forget the past. Live in the present with no fears, no worries, no anxiety at all._

"With no interests, no cares, no love, no passion," added the shocked hybrid. "What an utterly dull existence that would be for me! I get bored far too easily for that!"

_This is true,_ chuckled the _pa'das_, sounding thoroughly amused.

"Were you _testing_ me?" Tylia demanded suddenly, the barest of accusations creeping into her voice.

_Of course not,_ Petrius replied, a chuckle still rolling through his voice. _I was entirely serious. However, I am also aware that that type of life rarely appeals to two-leggers._

"Bloody hell," Tylia muttered, sounding not unlike the British students at Hogwarts.

_And who's hell would that be?_ Petrius inquired quickly, his voice light, innocent and curious. _Certainly not a Pasaelaer's._

"Hush, you!" Tylia rose from her bed and grabbed her school bag and headed off to the library. She had four essays due next week, plus one due in less than two weeks, and none of them were finished.

She spent the entirety of the morning in the library working alternately on an essay for Alchemy and one for her Potions class. It was two weeks until the end of term and the Christmas Holidays that her human companions loved so much. Tylia, in contrast, had no fun and interesting holiday to occupy her time during the two-week break. She might, just _might_ be able to convince her parents to send her to visit Myrdaeraes and Vlosorbb. Hopefully she'd be able to take a friend or three with her. Scorpius in particular crossed her mind when she thought of that.

Jallil had assigned two essays: the one due Monday was to cover the history of the Alchemist's Alphabet, the one due on the last day of term was on the two key rules of Alchemy and their importance. The Potions essay, also due Monday, was on _Felix Felicitous_ (which they would _not_ be making in class, more was the pity). The other two papers due that week were for Charms (on counter spells) and Ancient Runes (on the definitions Muggles had for Draconic runes, also known as Anglo-Saxon Runes).

For lunch, she returned to the Dining Hall and ate with Eileen, Raoul and their group. When Karla and Beka sneered at her on their way to sit down, Tylia smiled at them and bade them good day. Raoul laughed heartily at the looks of shock that covered their faces.

After lunch, she returned to the library, where she had left her bag in the dubious care of the Library, Madame Pince. No sooner had Tylia sat down again than the thin, scarecrowish woman came stalking over to her, something silvery-blue clutched in her hand.

"Come with me, Miss," Pince hissed quietly, waving the item under the _Orondralas_' nose. Tylia was startled to realize that it was Korthus, a note still clutched in her beak.

"Madame Pince—" Tylia began, trying to catch the bird or the woman's wrist, so that she might free Korthus.

"Silence!" hissed the blue-eyed woman, latching onto Tylia's own wrist with her free hand. Tylia found herself being hauled into an office at the back of the library. Madame Pince shut the door quietly and placed Korthus roughly on the desk. Tylia instantly started to examine the hawklike creature to make sure she hadn't been harmed, sparing but a moment to glare at the Librarian.

After a moment, she pulled out her wand—Madame Pince glowered but said nothing, evidently aware that Tylia wouldn't catch a word of anything that was said before the _sholol's_ health was assured—and murmured the counter spell to the Freezing Charm the Librarian had used.

Korthus let out a shriek of furious sound and launched herself at Madame Pince, who flinched at the sound and shrank away from the _sholol's_ slashing claws. The magical bird landed one swipe—three long scratches—before Tylia could call her off.

"Korthus, stop that!" When Korthus ignored her, she put a little more force into the command. "Kori, get yourself gone! I'll deal with this _cestal_."

Korthus shrieked once more, but flew out the open window. Tylia, ignoring the Librarian's protest, grabbed the woman's arm and yanked the sleeve back to bare the three deep talon marks. With a sigh, Tylia pointed her wand at them and muttered a spell.

"That stings!" Madame Pince yelped, finally managing to yank her harm out of the _Orondralas_' stronger grip.

"It was _supposed_ to," Tylia replied in an exasperated tone before muttering another spell. "I had to _clean_ the wounds before I _healed_ them, didn't I? No telling what the last thing Korthus had in her claws was."

Startled by Tylia's matter-of-fact answer, Madame Pince glanced down at her arm, where the three scratches were rapidly healing. She looked slightly mollified.

"What is that you called me? 'Cess-tall?'" the Librarian asked suspiciously.

"Pronunciation's not bad, for a _cestal_," Tylia commented, putting faint stress on the word. "It just means 'human.'"

"Oh." The Librarian's previous glaring anger soon returned in full. "That _creature—_"

"Her name is Korthus," Tylia interrupted coldly, earning a glare from Madame Pince. "And she is a _sholol,_ not a '_creature._'"

"—was flitting about that table you left littered with your things," the older woman continued almost without pause. "And cawing at the top of her lungs. That filthy animal was disrupting my library!"

"If you had told her to hush, she would have," Tylia replied tiredly. "She was just trying to find me. She had a note for me. See, there it is."

Tylia scooped up the small piece of paper before Madame Pince could.

"And she doesn't realize that she's supposed to be quiet here. She'll know better from now on," added the hybrid as she turned to leave.

"Ms. Windguard." Tylia froze, her hand on the office door, but she did not turn around to face Madame Pince. "You are a powerful witch, Windguard. Do not deny the Wizarding World your abilities simply because you are not human. You obviously have talents that your people normally do not possess—let us teach you to use them, and use them well."

Tylia returned to her table, wondering where the hell that last had come from and opened the note.

_'Tylia—_

_Yeh'll come down to me cabin this afternoon, won't yeh? I told yeh I had sommat to show yeh. Bring yer friends if yeh must, but only those as yeh can trust, OK?_

_—Hagrid'_

_Kori, c'mere. And be quiet!_ Tylia called with her mind, visualizing the _sholol_ as she sent the thought out. _You, too, Petrius._

Both of her companions arrived ten minutes later, as Tylia was working on her Ancient Runes essay. Korthus muttered in soft clicks and screels as she landed on the back of a chair, cursing the idiot human who had had the nerve to treat her like one of her common cousins. Petrius slouched up and jumped onto the table, careful not to touch any of her papers or books. Glancing up, Tylia caught sight of Madame Pince glaring in their direction.

"Korthus, I'm sorry about her," Tylia told the _sholol_ with a smile as she fished a small cube of raw meat out of a special belt-pouch. Korthus accepted it soundlessly. "She's just worried about her books, she doesn't mean anything by it. She doesn't understand that you're as smart or smarter than most of the _cestal _she has to put up with."

Korthus muttered a further soft curse and Tylia laughed soundlessly. _Sholol _had long memories and did not often forget an insult. Tylia scratched an answer to Hagrid_—"I'll be there on time and two others with me, maybe, Tylia"—_and handed the note to Korthus.

"For Hagrid, please." The hawkish bird took the small piece of paper in her beak as Tylia tied the four letters to her leg. "For the usual, plus Theodore."

Korthus nodded and sailed out of an open window as Petrius meowed loudly. Several heads snapped around at the sound and several people scattered at the sight of the large feline.

"Keep him _quiet!_" the Librarian snarled softly, stalking up to the table. She jumped and scurried away when Petrius' red eyes came to bear on her.

_What did you need to see me for?_ Petrius inquired idly, following Madame Pince with his eyes. There was a note of slightly vindictive pleasure in his voice; he was very fond of Korthus, and didn't like that Madame Pince had abused her so.

"I need you to find Eileen and Raoul," Tylia replied, petting him gently. "Ask them to meet me at Hagrid's at about two this afternoon. Or send them to me here. I'll be here until then."

_I shall do as you ask,_ the large feline replied, dipping his large head before rising and jumping to the floor. Tylia watched as he left, chuckling as he sauntered over to Madame Pince and gave his most polite, innocent _meow._

"That animal is _not_ to come into my Library ever again," Madame Pince informed the hybrid as soon as Petrius was out of sight.

"His name is Petrius," Tylia replied with a sigh. "And he was only being polite. Besides, you act as though I can control him. I can't, you know. He goes where he wishes."

"Excuse me?" the Librarian sputtered.

"The first meow was a hello, the second a goodbye," Tylia explained, starting to rearrange her essays so that she could work on a different one. "He could have said it outright, but most people freak out a little the first time a telepathic panther starts talking to them."

Tylia didn't see the Librarian stalk away, but she did hear someone come up behind her. It took all her will to fight the battle training that Jallil had beaten into her; the training that demanded that she turn to face this newest threat.

"Good afternoon," she said calmly instead. An arm, covered in a black sleeve trimmed with emerald green reached over her shoulder and tossed three round metal pieces onto her Ancient Runes essay.

"What are these?" Scorpius demanded as Tylia picked up the talismans, shaking her head slightly.

"Just what Albus was supposed to tell you they were," Tylia replied, finally turning to look at him. He didn't seem angry, just disconcerted. "A gift, from one culture-lover to another."

"Why?" Scorpius' gray eyes were steely, determined, but also a little confused. "And what do they _mean?_ Surely they mean _something_."

"Indeed they do," Tylia replied easily. "Nice to meet you finally, Scorpius. My name is Tylandraes, by the way. Call me Tylia, everyone does. The 'why' is easy: you said that you were fond of magical cultures. Two of these are from my two cultures. The third is of my own creation."

"Nice to meet you, Tylandraes," Scorpius drawled wryly. He seemed to be vaguely amused by the _Orondralas_' rambling speech. "My name is Scorpius Malfoy, though you seem to know that well enough."

"I _do_ know," Tylia admitted, suppressing the urge to make a face when he called her by her full name. She had heard that Scorpius Malfoy had a penchant for formality. She kept her eyes steadily on him as he sank carefully into a chair next to hers. From the way he lowered himself gingerly into place, she might have thought that he expected it to explode.

"Alright, all formalities aside," Scorpius continued, leaning forward so that he could see her the better. "You only answered one of my questions."

"Actually, I answered two of three," Tylia corrected automatically. Without looking away from the Slytherin, she plucked one of the talismans off of the table beside her. She knew instantly which one it was: made of Elven-silver1, it was the _Jhondraelael_ talisman. "This one is from my father's side. The script is more flowing and much more elegant. The symbols represent good luck, and are said to attract it."

"And what makes you think I need good luck?" Scorpius inquired indignantly, bolting stiffly upright in his chair.

"Would you rather I made you a bad-luck talisman?" Tylia demanded in turn, smiling slightly. "Not hard, with _Pasaelael_ symbols."

Scorpius said nothing, but accepted the talisman when she offered it to him. Plucking a second talisman from the table, she continued.

"Everyone can use a bit of good luck." The talisman she now held was made from black-gold2, a strictly Pasaelael alloy of gold and iron. "This one is from my mother's culture. The symbols are more vivid and violent seeming. They stand for protection from magical harm."

"Very nice," he murmured, accepting the talisman without complaint this time. Which left only the copper pendant, the hybrid. "And that one?"

"A hybrid, not unlike myself," Tylia shrugged, allowing her eyes to wander between the pendant and the young man, as she wondered how he would react to this final gift. "It incorporates both _Jhondraelael_ and _Pasaelael_ symbols, which blend at the two dividing lines. It is meant to be a ward against the bad luck of past misdeeds."

"I beg your pardon?" His voice was soft this time, but no less indignant.

"Misdeeds of the family," Tylia amended obediently at the Slytherin's outrage. Scorpius' storm-gray eyes flashed as though lit from inside by lightning and then settled again.

"Thank you," was all the young man said as he took the third talisman and walked off without another word.

He looked very pensive, and she noted that he pulled a string from his pocket, slipped it through the chain-hole in the copper pendant, and tied it around his neck. The _Pasaelael_ talisman he slipped into his left pocket, the _Jhondraelael_ he put in his right. Tylia raised her eyebrows in interest; it seemed that the quiet young man had a notion—conscious or not—of how to balance magical energies. Shaking her head bemusedly, she went back to her essays.

* * *

1Called 'molaes' by the Jhondraelaer and 'elghinn'drostan' by the Pasaelaer, Elf-silver is of Jhondraelael making and has many magical properties. These include giving off light at the approach of 'evil' races (Pasaelaer, driders, orcs, etc.) and improving the bearer's natural luck.

2Called 'renor plak'la' by the Pasaelaer and 'shalyr' by the Jhondraelaer, black gold is a substance engineered by the Pasaelaer. It is a magical mixture of gold and iron. Black-gold has many unique properties which include being harder than ordinary iron and more malleable—for certain people—than ordinary gold.


	6. Chapter 5

**Chapter Five: Trinkets**

"You're more interesting than I gave you credit for, Ash." Raoul's voice boomed across the empty staircase outside the Entrance Hall. Tylia was amazed to see that no one was out and about. But then again, it was cold and the dark clouds on the horizon threatened rain.

Raoul was seated with his back to the door, Eileen stood two steps down and a long, velvety tail twitched next to the large man's foot as Tylia came through the enormous oak doors.

_You told him I was coming,_ Tylia accused, smiling to Eileen.

_Of course,_ Petrius replied, climbing to his feet with the boneless grace that only felines seem to achieve and purring as he twined around her feet like a housecat.

"Silly _pa'das_," Tylia murmured as Raoul, grinning merrily, turned just in time to see her kiss the large feline on the nose.

"I like your kitty-cat," commented the older Ravenclaw, standing and stretching mightily.

"He's not _mine,_ precisely," Tylia objected, glancing at Petrius, who said nothing. _He_ did not mind when humans unknowingly assumed that he was Tylia's pet, but the halfbreed _did_.

"But if he wasn't Bonded to _you,_" Eileen objected in turn. "He wouldn't be _him._"

"That doesn't mean I _own_ him, Eileen," Tylia replied with a slight hint of exasperation in her voice. "If anything, it means that I'm a _part_ of him, though the relationship works both ways." She smiled at Petrius, who thrust his whiskers forward in a feline smile. "_He's_ a part of _me,_ as well."

"_Still_," Raoul interjected easily, tossing an arm around each girl's shoulder. "I like him. A bit unnerving at first—thought I was going mad when I heard a voice in my head, till Eileen told me it was Petrius, here—but a good fellow to have about."

_Nice to know that you approve,_ Petrius drawled wryly before padding off in the direction of the lake as the two-leggers laughed.

"Hagrid wanted us?" Eileen asked as the trio traipsed down the wide stone stairs.

"I've never even _met_ Hagrid," Raoul complained, bringing the two girls up short. "How could he want _me?_"

"You're in seventh year and you've never met Hagrid?" The two fifth-years chorused, trading a disbelieving look.

"No, I haven't," Raoul replied with an easy shrug. "Why?"

"I thought _everyone_ knew Hagrid," Eileen explained, still looking a little shocked.

"Oh, we _must_ fix this," Tylia announced. Eileen fervently nodded her agreement. "Hagrid might well be the only person at Hogwarts bigger than you, Raoul."

"Is that a bad thing?" Raoul inquired petulantly.

"No, dear," Eileen laughed. "We like you large."

"Hagrid wanted to see _me,_" Tylia said, answering Eileen's question at last. "Wanted to show me something and said I could bring friends 'as I could trust.' You two are the ones that came to mind."

For the first time since she had met him, Raoul looked solemn; he nodded. Eileen smiled and gave Tylia a hug.

"I wonder what he wants to show you," Raoul mused.

"I don't know," admitted Tylia, shrugging out of Eileen's hug with a slight blush mantling her sharp cheekbones. "He's being very mysterious."

Five minutes later, Tylia and Eileen were knocking enthusiastically on Hagrid's door.

"Who's there?" came Hagrid's bass voice. The three friends could hear high-pitched barking and the scrabbling of little claws on the wooden door. Eileen and Tylia exchanged slightly worried glances; there was no telling what Hagrid had in his house, even if it did _sound _like a puppy.

"Tylia and company," Eileen replied after a moment.

Hagrid pulled the heavy door open and a small, dark streak of fur tumbled out and assaulted Raoul's leg. Tylia was relieved to note that it was, indeed, just a puppy. Raoul, looking amused, caught the puppy and picked it up, which earned him a thorough face licking.

"I'd forgotten that you were getting a new puppy," Tylia commented, reaching up to pet the squirming scrap of fuzz.

"Yep," Hagrid agreed, the slightest flash of sadness flitting across his face. "When Fang died a while back, I decided to find a new friend. 'Er name is Taali, after me dad's mum."

"She's an Irish wolfhound, isn't she?" Raoul asked when Taali finally stopped kissing him. She settled into his arms and sat still.

"Aye, she is," Hagrid replied, eyeing the pup suspiciously. "An' that's the first time I've ever seen 'er still. She must like yeh."

"Hagrid, you know Eileen?" Tylia asked, wanting to get to the reason they were here.

"Aye, and she's a good lass," Hagrid replied. Eileen smiled at him. Tylia had noticed that Eileen smiled at people a lot. It was almost unnerving.

"Well, this is Raoul, a Ravenclaw seventh-year," Tylia continued. "He's sweet."

"Nice teh meet yeh, Raoul," Hagrid said, waving the trio inside. "Taali'n Tylia trust yeh, so yer welcome here. 'Sides, yer a Dupont, aren't yeh?"

"Yes, sir," Raoul agreed, looking slightly surprised that Hagrid had known his name.

"Don't ye call _me_ 'sir!'" Hagrid growled. Raoul nodded. "I knew yer dad, an' he was a fine fellow, an' I trust 'im to've raised ye right. Ye looks just like 'im."

"Thank you, s-Titan." Hagrid gave him a quizzical look, but quickly turned to the topic that Tylia brought up next.

"What did you want to show me, Hagrid?" Tylia asked gently, steering the conversation back to what she wanted to know.

"I found sommat in the forest," Hagrid answered evasively. "A ball clear as crystal an' twice as hard."

"And why would that interest me?" the halfbreed asked reasonably. Eileen and Raoul—with Taali still in his arms—looked intensely curious.

"T'wouldn't," Hagrid admitted, rummaging through a trunk and pulling out a clear ball slightly larger than a Muggle baseball. "'Cept for what's _inside_ it. Sometimes, anyway."

Tylia accepted the sphere when it was offered to her. Eileen and Raoul leaned over her shoulders to see it.

"There's _nothing_ inside," Tylia said, the slightest hint of an accusation in her voice.

"There _was_," Hagrid insisted. "_Twice_. Both times the same, or similar."

"_What_ was in it, Hagrid?" Eileen asked before Tylia got the chance.

"A picture, only _moving,_" Hagrid replied, his eyes going wide. "Like them 'movies' that Muggles go to see. A group of young lads an' lasses it was—lasses, mostly—with black skin an' white hair. Not teh mention that they had red eyes."

Tylia looked up from the ball immediately.

"_Pasaelaer?_" she demanded, alarmed. Most _Aelaer_1 were immune to magical scrying.

"I dunno if they were or not," Hagrid replied uneasily. "But I didn't like what they was doin'. There was another lass in the picture. Them as looked like they might be Dark Elves were beating her fair badly. The second time it was the same group, or near enough, but they was beating a lad this time, not more'n eight, he was. Them as was bein' beaten looked a lot like yer dad, Tylia."

Tylia swore colorfully in Undercommon until she ran out of curses. Raoul looked suitably impressed, but slightly confused.

"I take it that's not good?" he said, but it was more of a question than a statement. Eileen rolled her eyes.

"What's wrong, Tyl?" Tylia had given her permission to call her by her nickname.

"_This _is a powerful magical item, if it can spy on _Aelaer_," Tylia replied, running one hand through her long, silver hair as the other held the clear orb up to her eye level. "And I think it was made for the specific purpose of spying on the _Trantzvlos_."

"Huh?" Raoul asked eloquently. Eileen rolled her eyes again and elbowed him gently.

"What the big lug means is: 'what's the _Trantzvlos_?'"

"A secret group of _Pasaelaer_," Tylia replied grimly, and then she gave them a brief explanation of the cult.

"Well, if this _was_ made to watch 'em," Hagrid commented, sounding slightly green; Tylia had described some of the _Trantzvlos'_ travesties in grotesque detail. "It seems no bad thing to me."

"Yeah, just give it to the Light Elves so that they can do something with it," Raoul suggested with a broad shrug.

"Except that I don't know how it works," Tylia reminded them. "The images that Hagrid saw could be in the far past, the near past, the present, or even the future."

"Besides, if she gives it to her father's people," Eileen added, looking at the _Orondralas _for confirmation. "The _Pasaelaer_ would get…"

"'Pissed,'" Tylia finished flatly. "The word you're looking for is 'pissed.' and I don't mean 'challenge-your-best-friend-to-a-duel-because-he-insulted-your-girlfriend' pissed. I mean 'kill-your-best-friend-because-he-murdered-your-sister' pissed. _Pasaelaer_ do nothing in half-measures."

"So give it to _them_," Raoul suggested instead.

"I'm barely accepted in the _Jhondraelael_ society as it is," Tylia replied uneasily, thinking of maybe never being able to see her grandfather again, if she gave the orb to her uncle. "My father and I would be outcasts if I gave the _Pasaelaer_ such a powerful item. Especially one made to spy on the _Jhondraelaer_'s most hated enemies."

"Yeh have to do _sommat_ with it," Hagrid commented.

"I _know,_" the halfbreed replied sharply. "I'll decide what that 'sommat' is when I figure out how to use the _xsa'us_2 thing."

* * *

"What's this?" His sister's voice was full of curiosity, but it held a note of iron that told him that he had bettered give her a straight answer. Her thin hand had come out of nowhere to touch his new pendant as he worked on his Alchemy essay. "Scorpius?"

At the sound of his name, the Slytherin fourth year glanced up at his sister. She looked so much like him that they might have been twins. The only differences in their appearances were a few inches (on his sister, not him, much to his chagrin), the blue on her robes that marked her a Ravenclaw to his Slytherin and the pale blue tinge to her Malfoy-gray eyes. They were both thin and pale, with characteristic white-blonde hair.

"A talisman," Scorpius replied uneasily; he wasn't sure how much he wanted the over-protective Pyra to know about his new artifacts. "Against bad luck."

Not the whole truth, and Pyra seemed to know it. She raised nearly invisible brows, looking skeptical, but left it at that for now.

"Where'd you get it?" Pyra prodded, sitting down across from her little brother. After his talk with the interesting Tylandraes, he had retreated to another area of the Library to think and to work on his own homework.

"From-from a new friend," Scorpius stumbled over the words. It always flustered him when his sister—or anyone else—got nosey. "She's in your House, actually."

"Uh-huh," Pyra nodded, instantly interested. "Would I know her?"

"Dunno." Scorpius shrugged, knowing that Pyra would do a background check as soon as he let a name slip. She had ruined more than one seemingly promising friendship that way; granted, most of those he ended up being glad he wasn't associated with.

"Come one, Scor," Pyra laughed. "You know the drill. What's her name?"

"Tylandraes Sholel-Zauval," Scorpius replied with a sigh, his pronunciation perfect. Pyra was right, as usual. There was no point in trying to hide something like that from her; she _always_ found out.

"I saw her on my way up," Pyra mused, thinking back. "She looked like she was headed for the Grounds."

"Pyra…don't do anything crazy when you talk to her, OK?" Scorpius requested, trying to sound casual with his eyes on his papers and his slender fingers tracing the runes on his copper pendant.

"Hmm, what's this?" Pyra inquired, focusing her gray-blue eyes back on her brother, who blushed slightly, but brought his eyes up to meet hers with a defiance that Pyra had rarely seen there before. She was both proud that her brother had developed such determination while under their father's influence and unsure that she liked having it leveled at _her._

"It's just—she seems nice, that's all," Scorpius replied, his flush deepening slightly. "Don't scare her off, OK?"

"From what I've heard, she's hard to scare," Pyra replied with a grin that was anything but reassuring. "I'll catch her after dinner, I think."

Furious that his sibling was joking when he was trying to be serious, Scorpius threw all of his papers into his bag and stormed out of the Library.

Pyra watched him go, her eyes worried. Love wasn't something she wanted for her brother, or, at least, not _unrequited_ love. She knew about that, and it was not a thing her brother would survive intact. From what Pyra had heard about Tylandraes, the strange young woman would have little enough interest in Scorpius.

* * *

Tylia was curled up in one of the many recliners scattered about the Ravenclaw Common Room, Hagrid's orb in her lap. Her _particular_ chair was mostly in shadows, but she knew that her silvery hair would be visible in the firelight.

Tylia had been watching the crystalline ball for hours—since dinner—hoping an image would come. She was just starting to think that she was going about it the wrong way when someone slid gracefully out of the shadows and into a chair across from hers.

"Good evening," the halfbreed murmured without looking up. Tylia could see her guest out of the corner of her eye; she looked like a ghost in the shadows of the Common Room.

"What do you think of Scorpius Malfoy?" asked the newcomer. _That_ got Tylia's attention. Her deep green eyes snapped up and caught the stranger's blue-gray ones.

"Who wants to know?" she asked in turn, suspicious of this girl and miffed that the newcomer had not even had the courtesy to introduce herself.

"His sister." The reply was flat, tinged by only a hint of incredulity, as if she couldn't believe that Tylia hadn't caught on to that fact on her own.

So this was Pyra Malfoy, the first of that clan in living memory to be in any House but Slytherin. She certainly had the Malfoy phenotype, except for her eyes. Most Malfoys, Scorpius included, had eyes the color of storm clouds. Pyra's eyes were different, the gray-blue of the ocean just _before_ a storm.

"Scorpius is…interesting," Tylia replied hesitantly. She had heard interesting things about _Pyra,_ too. "He's a culture-lover, like me, so we get along."

"He told me you gave him a present," Pyra continued easily, leaning forward with a hint of a smile, which was replaced by a grimace. "But he didn't want to tell me much about it. Would you care to clear that up?"

"No," Tylia replied promptly, twitching her cloak over the ball in her lap so that Pyra's sharp blue eyes wouldn't see it. Pyra looked surprised and Tylia smiled now. "The way I see it, Miss Malfoy, my gifts to him are between him and myself. If you want to know and he won't tell you, you'll have to be happy with that."

Pyra nodded slightly, but looked disgruntled and distinctly unhappy. Tylia got the impression that she was used to getting her way, or at least having people give her the information she wanted.

"You're interesting yourself, Tylandraes," Pyra commented, changing the topic.

"My friends call me Tylia," the halfbreed commented in turn.

"And are we friends?" Pyra inquired. Tylia had to give her credit; the sixth year didn't even flinch as Petrius stood up from his place at Tylia's feet and yawned, showing four-inch fangs.

Tylia rose after him, keeping the orb under her cloak.

"You tell me, Pyra," she replied with an easy shrug. "_I_ wouldn't mind."

Before Pyra could respond, feline and companion were ascending the nearby stairs to the girl's dorms.

_That was interesting,_ Tylia yawned wearily, running her fingers absent-mindedly over the smooth ball.

_I think she likes you,_ Petrius replied, padding up the stairs in front of her.

_Good,_ Tylia yawned again as she slid into bed. _I'd hate to have made another enemy today._

_

* * *

_

* * *

1Elves

2Damned


	7. Chapter 6

**Chapter Six: Departure**

Tylia didn't have to turn around to imagine the group—or, more accurately, _groups_—that were approaching her. She wondered what they would think of her appearance today, especially Eileen, who had known her longest. It was the last day of term and she would be leaving in just under forty-eight hours.

She was standing tall, her back to Hogwarts, looking out over the Black Lake. Korthus perched on her left shoulder and her right hand gently traced a dark, silvery marking on Petrius' shoulder. Instead of her usual loose, half-sleeved silver shirt and wide-legged breeches, she was wearing a tight, long-sleeved black shirt laced with dark red vines that made up _Pasaelael_ runes and her pants were tight as well, made of a soft black fabric that looked as though it would vanish into the shadows if given the chance. Thick, sturdy boots of supple black leather were on her feet—for the first time in three years—and a bracelet of ebony and ruby spiders adorned her right wrist.

The four people approaching her—so said Korthus, who was giving her a running commentary in soft bird-sounds—had come out of the Entrance Hall at the same time. From their grouping as the doors opened, they had all arrived separately. As soon as they had come out, they had separated: Raoul and Eileen walking a little apart from Pyra and Scorpius. Tylia smiled when Korthus informed her that all were dressed casually; that was good.

She suppressed a laugh when she heard Eileen stop short once she was close enough to realize how the _Orondralas _was dressed. Raoul froze a moment later, when he noticed her rigid stance. Scorpius and Pyra came closest before realizing that something was wrong.

"Since _when_ did _you_ wear _shoes?_" demanded Tylia's oldest friend at Hogwarts. Eileen had never seen Tylia with anything on her feet, not even socks, not even on the coldest days of the year.

"And stand like that?" Raoul added uneasily. "You're so _stiff._"

"Where did you get that bracelet?" Scorpius asked. His voice sounded shaky and Korthus informed Tylia as one hand slid into the pocket of his jacket, as though reflexively assuring himself that something was still there.

Pyra, the latest addition to Tylia's group of friends, said nothing. Once she was certain that they were finished for a moment, Tylia finally turned to face them. Pyra flinched slightly when she saw the jagged, blood red symbol on the left shoulder of Tylia's shirt; it was the symbol of House Zauval.

"Since I was told I was going to visit my relatives; same answer to you, Raoul; I got the bracelet from my Uncle, Vlosorbb; to you, Pyra, the symbol is that of my mother's _Pasaelael_ House, her family." Tylia answered each question, looking at each person in turn.

"And what has that got to do with _us_?" Pyra inquired mildly, ignoring the fact that Tylia had answered a question she hadn't even asked.

"_Everything,_ Pyra," Tylia replied, smiling at last. Petrius rose and circled the group of two-leggers, his scarlet eyes raking each in turn. "My parents have informed me that I am to spend the two splendid weeks of Winter Break with my family, one week with each culture."

"So?" Eileen snapped, still off-put by her friend's dramatic and abrupt change.

"_So_," Tylia continued, giving Eileen a cheery smile that showed just a _bit_ too much teeth. "I have been given permission to bring up to four human friends with me. You four were my immediate choices."

_You're pushing your__ veldrin wund_1 _a bit, aren't you?_ Petrius inquired as her friends stood, considering. _They are your friends, after all._

_They'll see worse in the Underdark. This is nothing compared to that. They would have learned of my m__adyrdorol_2_ eventually, anyway. Why not now?_

"I thought that _Aelaer_ didn't like humans," Scorpius ventured finally, his hand still clenched in his jacket pocket.

"They don't, as a rule," Tylia replied with another toothy grin, ignoring the further glare that Petrius shot her way. "But I have…_connections_ in both cultures."

"I'd _like_ to go," Raoul ventured, but he was shaking his head. "But Mum and Dad would _kill_ me if I skipped out on Christmas. Even for such an opportunity."

"It's alright, Raoul," Tylia replied, giving the large Ravenclaw an almost pitying look. She kissed him on the cheek and Scorpius flinched slightly; only Pyra noticed.

"I don't think that Father—" Pyra began, but Scorpius cut her off.

"I'm going." He glared at his sister, full of incredulity and spite. "Since when did you give a _damn_ what the Malfoys thought? _Especially_ that jackass who calls himself our father?"

Pyra shrugged; her brother was right. She had only been trying to keep these two away from each other…it _had_ been a poor excuse, though. Also, even Pyra had to admit that she was looking forward to exploring a pair of magical cultures from which humans had been banned for millennia.

"True enough," she replied, avoiding the look her brother was giving her—it was the first time she had ever seen overt animosity in his gaze, at least when it was directed at _her_. But she wouldn't blame this—what had Scorpius told her that Albus Potter had called Tylia?—'Elfling' for her brother's recent behavior. Love made people do stupid things, but Tylia had not _asked_ for Scorpius to fall in love with her. It wasn't as if the halfbreed were an overt flirt or anything.

"Me three," Eileen added. "I'm going to keep an eye on _you_."

She added this last with a glare in Tylia's direction. The _Orondralas_ merely bowed mockingly to her and waved her hand dismissively at Raoul, who left, looking a little hurt.

_I'll apologize to him before we leave._

_Of course you will._ Petrius agreed out of habit, but he was worried about Tylia. Every time she went to visit her _Jhondraelael_ family, she became more like a _Pasaer._ Granted, the reverse was true, but not to nearly such an extreme.

"We leave Sunday morning for _Si Kesol Thysaer_," Tylia informed her three friends. "The Guarding Forest is cool this time of year, but you'll have no need of cloaks. Going barefoot is the norm, but they'll not mind _you_ wearing shoes."

There was only the slightest bit of condescension in her voice as she looked them over.

"And _you?_" Eileen demanded, pointed scathingly to the thick boots on Tylia's own feet.

"Me? I can do anything I please," Tylia replied with a much more feral grin that she had shown before. "But I'll answer your question more properly: _my_ wearing boots will really…ruffle some feathers."

"What about where ever it is that your _Pasaelael_ family lives?" Scorpius called as Tylia began to walk away around the lake. Korthus launched off of Tylia's shoulder as the halfbreed turned around.

"You'll be properly outfitted for that place once we arrive there," Tylia replied with another grin. "_Nothing_ humans make is appropriate for the Underdark. That's what it's called, by the way."

"Underdark," she heard Eileen mutter. "I don't think I like the sound of that."

"Oh, I _know_ you don't." The _Orondralas_ tossed the comment back to her human friend, a large measure of contempt and derisive pleasure in her voice.

* * *

All the arrangements had been made. The transportation would be here soon and everyone knew where to be and what to do. It was dawn, the eastern sky just beginning to flush pink with the coming of the day.

Tylia herself was perched in a nearby tree, dressed in the same manner as two days before: heavy boots, tight clothes, all in black. A black cloak had joined her other clothes, deep red runes embroidered on it but barely visible. The same bracelet was on her right wrist, but a new ornament was present. Today, she wore a black satin choker embroidered with silver spiders. On the spiders' abdomens, in blood red, was the symbol of House Zauval.

From where she was, it would look like none but Petrius waited for her friends.

_This trickery is beneath you, Tylandraes,_ Petrius snarled into her mind as he paced beneath her perch. He, too, was becoming more like a traditional _pa'das_ as Tylia changed to be more like a _Pasaer_, more hateful, more snappish, less…_him_.

_He was hiding something,_ Tylia replied soothingly._ He was startled, frightened, even. He wouldn't tell me for the asking, I know._

_What if he doesn't bring it?_ Petrius demanded, glancing up at her. _What if he doesn't come alone?_

_He will, to both._

_How do you know?_ The big cat demanded.

_The first is instinct,_ Tylia admitted. _The second is certain. His sister makes him nervous, angry, even. Eileen he does not know._

_You only run on instinct when you give into your veldrin wund!_

_Shush, he's coming._

Scorpius was well dressed. Like her, he was dressed primarily in black: black leather jacket over a soft silver shirt and black jeans; black shoes of some Muggle brand—not bought by his father, Tylia was sure—were on his feet. His skin nearly glowed against the black of his clothes, and a black bag was over one shoulder. It struck Tylia for the first time how handsome the young man was. She very quickly shoved that thought into the back of her mind as he came closer.

_Petrius—_

_I'm leaving,_ growled the _pa'das_, vanishing instantly into the pre-dawn shadows. He knew that Tylia didn't think that Scorpius would reveal his secret in front of her most obvious spy.

_Thank you._ Her mind-whisper was lost to the darkness.

Scorpius stopped below her tree and glanced around, then dropped his bag and sat on the bare, dry earth underneath. He put his hand into his jacket pocket and Tylia caught her breath, her heart pounding suddenly for a reason she couldn't name. He withdrew something that sparkled in the early morning light.

"Where did you come from, _Streeas Iglata_3?" Tylia noted that, though Myrdyl did not teach the _Obok Sekevlos Telanth_4 in his class, Scorpius pronounced the _Pasaelael_ word perfectly. But how had a human come across Death's Promise? "You are so precious, my one true defender in a world still mad over the Blood Wars, but I am afraid that I will lose you, to one or the other of Tylandraes' families."

"And why would my families be interested in anything of _yours?_"

Tylandraes dropped silently through the branches as she spoke, landing with a soft _phomp_ in the dry earth next to Scorpius. He leapt to his feet and Tylia heard the distinct hiss of a drawn blade.

The _Orondralas_ rose to her 'ready' stance; not threatening, but ready to be so. She studied him, noting the slight misbalance in his stance as well as the perfect reverse grip with which he handled the slightly curved dagger in his left hand. Something—the scabbard, Tylia presumed—glittered in his right.

Although she could see him well, she knew that Scorpius wouldn't be able to see her very well at all. She grinned toothily.

"Tylandraes?" The name was a question, hesitant, scared, almost. Scorpius took several steps back, off of the dirt and away from the tree, then resumed his stance.

Without a sound, Tylia's leg swung down and out and caught Scorpius just where his slightly unbalanced stance would cause him the most trouble. He went sprawling and dagger as well as scabbard flew into the air. Tylia caught both easily and went back to the tree, leaning against it nonchalantly as Scorpius scrabbled to regain his feet.

"Well, well, well," Tylia murmured, her eyes on Scorpius as he approached, rather than on the dagger she was resheathing. "Where _did_ you get such a pretty thing?"

The scabbard was ebony, inlaid with silver spiders that had ruby symbols in the abdomen, not unlike Tylia's choker. The hilt was silver, etched with spiders and inlaid with the same crimson symbols.

"I-I found her," Scorpius replied. He did not now feel the hesitance he usually did when Pyra was prying into his life. For some reason, he felt that Tylia deserved to know, though he wouldn't have told her if she hadn't asked. _Streeas Iglata_ was his best-kept secret. "In the garden at Malfoy Manor. In _my_ garden. Under the roses. She was very dirty, but I cleaned her up. No one else knows that I have her."

"'Her?' 'She?'" Tylia inquired, dropping her eyes to the dagger in her hands for the first time. The crimson symbols alternated between facing spiders; one for the blade's name, the other for a long-exterminated line of _Pasaelaer_. That House was said to once have been the greatest of the Ruling Houses, favored by Jhyr herself and very powerful. But they fell from Jhyr's grace and were exterminated by her driders5.

"Yes." He was more confident around Tylia than around any one else, even _this_ Tylia. Even he had to admit that she didn't seem like the same person he had spoken to in the library. "She seems…feminine."

"Has anyone ever told you that you have an instinct for cultures?" Tylia inquired, the barest hint of admiration in her voice. Scorpius shook his head and resisted the urge to step back as Tylia flipped Death's Promise from her sheath and into a perfect reverse grip, the point directed toward Scorpius. "See the curve of the blade? It means that the blade is female. A male blade is straight—you don't see them very often in _Pasaelael_ culture. If you _do_ see someone carrying a straight blade in the Underdark, avoid them. They're usually trouble. _Jhondraelaer_ say that the _Pasaelaer_ show love more readily to their blades than their mates."

Tylia laughed and shook her head, but it was an unpleasant laugh. The _Jhondraelaer_ were right.

"Her name is 'Death's Promise.' And you were right. Both of my families would love to get her back. Among my mother's people, she is a legend, the lost dagger of their chief goddess. To my father's folk, she's a threat, a rallying point for the increasingly fractured factions of my mother's relatives."

She resheathed the dagger and handed her back to Scorpius, who looked at the scabbard and hilt with a dawning wonder.

"She's a _legend?_" he asked, looking back up at a highly amused Tylia.

"Oh, yes," Tylia replied with a little laugh, just as unpleasant as the last. "And any _Aer_6 finding her on your person will take her from you."

"I can't let that happen," Scorpius murmured, looking down on the old blade with reverence in his eyes and voice. He was holding _Streeas Iglata_ by the hilt. "I'm…fond of her."

In a movement so fast that Scorpius would have seen a blur at best, Tylia drew the dagger, struck Scorpius across the face and replaced her before the pureblood could move.

"What the—" Scorpius' hand flew to his face, but there was no wound.

"I struck you with the sharp of her blade," Tylia commented slowly. A red weal was forming there from the strength of the strike, but the dagger had not cut him. She passed her hand over the weal, muttering a healing spell that Headmistress McGonnagal had taught her to perform wandlessly a year ago. Tylia knew that certain weapons—including Death's Promise—chose their owners, not the other way around. "She did not harm you. She intends to be yours, and I intend to help you keep her."

"How?"

"Give her to me when my relatives arrive," Tylia shrugged easily. "They will search everyone for weapons, but they'll let me retain mine. I'll give her back when we get safely into _Si Kesol Thysaer_."

"I…of course." Scorpius didn't look particularly pleased. "Any thing else would get her taken from me, wouldn't it?"

"Yes, it would. And one more thing," Tylia added as Scorpius began to turn away. She could see Pyra heading towards them. "Your stance was off; that's how I knocked you down so easily. Let me help you fix it."

Remembering with a slight flush how easily she had gotten him on the ground, Scorpius obligingly assumed his fighter's stance.

"See? It's too wide," Tylia pointed out, bringing his left leg in a little. "It'll feel odd for a while, but hold it long enough, often enough and it will seem natural."

"Thank you." _This_ seemed more like the Tylia he had met in the Library. Then the kind light in her eyes vanished at the same time that he felt Pyra come up behind him, replaced by that toothy, feral grin.

"Not at all," she scoffed, her deep green eyes flashing between brother and sister. "I'm just making sure that one of my favorite males doesn't get himself dumped into a lava pit in the Underdark."

"Morning, Tylia," Pyra commented easily, as though she hadn't heard the condescension in the halfbreed's voice.

"Morning, Pyra," Tylia replied, a half-veiled note of rivalry in her voice. "You look well today."

Pyra was dressed as well as her brother and much alike: black jacket, pants and shoes, but a pale blue silk shirt. Her bag was black with pale blue embroidery. She _did_ look good.

"Thanks."

The sun was well above the horizon now, and light was spilling greedily across the grounds to strike the windows of Hogwarts Castle into leaping flame. Eileen came running across to the others just as Tylia caught the sound of rushing wings.

"Sorry." Eileen panted breathlessly. "Woke up late."

"Of course." The chill in Tylia's voice was enough to make Eileen jerk back as though slapped. _She_ was in a soft green dress and—Tylia grinned when she noticed it—she was barefoot. A matching green bag was slung over one shoulder.

"What's that? That noise?" Pyra asked quietly, dusting off her brother's jacket where it had bits of grass on it from his 'fall.' "It sounds like…birds."

The sound of beating wings grew louder and then just stopped suddenly. Two slender branches of the tree came down to form an arch against the ground. A split second before a blinding golden light erupted from the arch Tylia sighed, reached through and yanked Eileen away from the trunk. The three humans covered their eyes to shield themselves from the light. A moment later, the light was gone—though the archway remained—and three figures stood before it."

"Greetings to you, emissaries of Their Majesties," Tylia said, bowing to the three. Scorpius, ever quick to understand, also bowed. Pyra merely looked the newcomers up and down, sizing them up. Eileen stood silent, shocked by the sudden appearance of three _Jhondraelaer_ on the Hogwarts Grounds.

The three looked and dressed so alike that they could have been triplets. They were dressed in what Tylia knew to be the uniform of the Royal Guard: dark grey long-sleeved tunics, breeches of the same color, fine, thin longbows displayed proudly on their backs, as well as silver-inlaid quivers with fifteen silver-fletched arrows apiece and silvery crescent-moon clasps for their cloaks. Two of the three were male. The third stepped forward with a smile for the humans.

" _Kaerol sai o shai shor shi si thos bororys sai Si Kesol Thysaer ail talia tolaelai_," she began, meeting the eyes of each of the humans in turn. "_Ai eis—_7"

"Maerosi." Tylia interrupted her friend idly, though the two males glared at her. "You'll do well to use the Common Speech when addressing my allies. Not all of them take Father's class."

As she spoke, Tylia stepped in front of Scorpius so that no one could see the space between her back and his front, her hand open behind her. Understanding instantly, Scorpius quickly placed _Streeas Iglata_ there. Tylia hid the blade deftly.

"Of course," Maerosi agreed with an apologetic smile, switching to English, in which she had a smooth, lisping accent not unlike Myrdyl's. "Forgive me, please. _Thol_8, my name is Maerosi, that is Seafire in your tongue. I am one of Their Majesties' Personal Guard, as are my companions, Jhondraes, that is Lightheart and Colaern, that is Kilnveiw. We are here to be your guide through the portal and to be your guides in the Forest."

"And to search those that I call allies," Tylia added viciously.

"Yes. We are sorry for that," Colaern replied, looking a bit guilty. "But those are our orders. _We_ do not believe that you would wish our royalty or our people any ill will, but we must be certain."

"Search away," Tylia scoffed. "_They_ have nothing to hide."

"Implying that _you_ do, _pandraesyrolaes _9?" snapped Jhondraes, open resentment in his eyes. Korthus and Petrius materialized out of nowhere, each voicing their resentment at his tone and words in their own way. All three _Jhondraelaer_ jumped.

"Jhondraes!" Maerosi snapped, flushing at the accusation in the _Aer_'s voice.

"Silence." Tylia's voice was soft and deadly. Everyone listened at once. Her eyes were fixed on Jhondraes', which were a few shades lighter than her own. "You had bettered be glad that I am also the daughter of your great-uncle, _cousin._ If I were solely the daughter of my mother's people, I would kill you where you stand. I had heard that you lost a sister—Thaeraecaes, wasn't she called?—to the _Trantzvlos_. I had _not_ heard that you lost all manners and courtesy at the same time. No member of House Zauval has ever been counted among the _Trantzvlos_. Learn to _hold your tongue!"_

Jhondraes was blushing deeply by the time Tylia turned away to pat Petrius.

_It is good to know that your veldrin wund does not control you completely._

_Nothing controls me completely,_ Tylia replied easily, though there was a hint of steel under her thoughts. _**Ever.**_

"Shall we get on with it then?" Scorpius inquired quietly. Maerosi nodded and the three humans were frisked. Colaern made to frisk Tylia, but she stared him down. When he stepped back, she gave him a sickly-sweet smile.

Without looking away from him, Tylia removed four daggers from various places and flicked her cloak back to reveal a thin black-handled sword in an ebony sheath. Decorated in silvery runes, the sheath was perfectly straight. Scorpius glanced between the straight blade and Tylia's carefully blank face. He also noted that _Streeas Iglata_ didn't make an appearance.

Maerosi nodded, satisfied with her friend's display, though Jhondraes and Colaern both eyed the straight-bladed sword with suspicion. Tylia replaced all of her daggers—all slightly curved—without letting anyone see where they went.

"Can we go now?" Tylia demanded, twitching her cloak back into place over her sword. For the barest moment, Tylia amused herself thinking about the fact that her cousin and his friend were worried about her straight-bladed sword. In truth, they should have welcomed it; the _Serdyr_ were well known for using deeply curved blades.

"Is _Jhys_10 Sholel not to attend?" Colaern inquired, only the second thing he had said since stepping through the portal.

"No, he's staying here," Tylia replied, and saw Colaern's face fall. She smirked. "He's busy over the break."

_He doesn't like seeing you like this, you mean,_ Petrius corrected as Korthus settled onto Tylia's shoulder.

_Mother understands why I do this_, Tylia replied as the rushing of wings could be heard again. The golden light blazed once more and Tylia pressed _Streeas Iglata_'s cool form into one of Scorpius hands. _And Uncle. And Grandfather._

The blaze of the portal spell dimmed a moment later. _Streeas Iglata_ was safely put away. Jhondraes and Colaern had already vanished into the soft, rippling golden light.

"Into the light, _Thol_," Maerosi said, smiling to the humans as she entered the portal. All three glanced uncertainly at Tylia, who rolled her eyes.

"Korthus, demonstrate." Tylia's voice was full of exasperation at her friends, but she did not order the _sholol_; Korthus would not have obeyed.

As it was, the hawk swooped off of her shoulder and into the light. After a moment, she came back with a rapid flow of information for Tylia's ears only. She smirked again.

_Korthus, go with Scorpius._ Again, there was no sense of an order in her voice, only amusement now. Korthus lighted on Scorpius' shoulder, who jumped almost imperceptibly. _Petrius, attend the ladies. Let Their Majesties see how much of my favor goes forth with these cestal._

Petrius moved to stand between Eileen and Pyra. Scorpius glanced back at Tylia. She gave him a short-lived smile and he nodded. Korthus was murmuring in his ear, something she often did for Tylia when the halfbreed was nervous.

Without looking back again, Scorpius stepped through the portal. Pyra quickly followed, then Petrius and Eileen. Tylia glanced up at the castle and gave a shrill whistle. Another whistle—her father's acknowledgement of her departure—answered, and she stepped into that golden light.

* * *

1Literally 'shadows within;' the same as the following note, except that this is the Pasaelael translation of the phrase. A true Pasaelael would never say this phrase, because any good Dark Elf knows that all beings _are_ darkness, they do not merely contain it.

2Literally 'shadows within;' the Light Elven phrase for the darknesses, the evil tendencies, that all sentient beings must contend with

3Death's Promise; the name of a Pasaelael knife that has fallen into legend. she is said to have been the dagger of Jhyr herself, though this has never been proven. Many of Jhyr's most loyal followers make it their life's work to recover this blade, hoping to win the Spider Queen's favor for the rest of time.

4Literally 'High True Blood Talk;' the softest, most pleasant of the Pasaelael tongues, used most commonly in the present day by scholars and slavers. Thought to be the original Dark Elven language.

5Driders are half-Pasaer, half enormous spider. Like a centaur, only spider instead of horse. Extremely unpleasant and they are _created,_ not bred. It is said that only the gods themselves have the ability to make such freaks of nature, though a few mad mages have attempted it with little effect. Rumor of young driders are as yet unfounded, and disturb the Pasaelaer more than they would ever admit. They will pay a handsome amount to anyone who can prove (or utterly disprove) the rumors.

6Elf of any of the Higher Families. Higher Families are those with descriptors: High Elves, Light Elves, Dark Elves, Wood Elves, Sea Elves, etc. Those Elves not of the Higher Families are simply called Elves in the human tongues, though they are called something else in the Elven tongues. They are often barbaric creatures, wholly given over to wildness and nature.

7Here Maerosi says: 'Greetings to you who will be the first visitors to The Guarding Forest in many millennia. I am—'

8Literally 'friends' or 'friend;' an honorary title given to any strange guests in the Forest.

9Literally 'daughter of killers;' one of the many rude terms that have been applied to Tylia by the Jhondraelaer.

10Lord

* * *


	8. Chapter 7

Chapter Seven: Arrival

Their Majesties, the _Col_1 and _Cel_2 of _Si Kesol Thysaer_, were waiting in the meadow beyond the portal. Arrayed there in all its simple splendor was _Si Tys os ei Syral Mestaes_3. They were resplendent in the finery of the season: the soft blues and silvers of winter. Here and there were sprinkled _Jhondraelaer_ dressed in dark grey, as Maerosi was. In the shadows of the trees behind _Si Tys_4 stood a _Jhondraer_ in all black.

Only the _Col_, _Cel_ and _Volaer_ 5 wore differently. All three were dressed in pure white, though the flash of silver embroidery and sapphire jewelry showed in the clear sun.

The three humans stood side-by-side with their animal guards. Maerosi was before them, making introductions. Tylia slid up behind as the portal winked out; only Petrius and Korthus acknowledged her.

Ignoring Maerosi for the time being, Tylia scanned The Court, nodding to those who nodded to her, before locking eyes with a _Jhondraer_ standing just behind and to the left of Their Majesties. He gave the slightest of bows, his brilliantly emerald eyes full of wry amusement as he glanced her up and down. Tylia gave a rakish grin in reply, lifting her chin slightly to draw attention to her choker. The _Jhondraer_ brought up a hand to hide a wide smile.

"Of course, _Si Tys _is aware of _Pelaer_6 Tylandraes and her two companions," Maerosi finished, glancing over Eileen's shoulder to meet Tylia's eyes. With a curt nod, Tylia moved to stand beside Scorpius and bowed deeply.

"Your Majesties, Your Highness, _Meistaraes_7," Tylia began as she straightened. "You honor myself and my allies with this visit. These three are the first humans to see The Guarding Forest and The Court of a Thousand Summers in over ten millennia. That _Si Thysaer _is finally open again to visitors is a step in the direction of the future. We thank you."

_And who says a Pasaer cannot be humble?_ Tylia inquired of Petrius with wry good humor.

_A Pasaer is humble only to reach higher on the ladder of society,_ Petrius reminded her calmly.

_True._

"It is you who honors us," the Queen murmured in soft, quiet English. "You, Tylandraes, are of our blood and are welcome always in this place of your birth. Your friends, if they prove to be friends to the _Aelael_ peoples during this visit, will be welcome ever after."

Once she was finished speaking, _Si Tys _broke formation and began, hesitantly, to mingle with the newcomers. Maerosi, true to her word, stayed with them. Another _Eisadael_, Meiryrdaes, attached herself to Pyra while a young nobleman, Masaelaer, came to talk with Scorpius.

The _Jhondraer_ that Tylia had been watching came over to her and scooped her into an undignified hug. True to her current _Pasaelael_ attitude, she shoved him away, face disgusted, but her eyes were happy.

"_Meistaraes_, refrain from such actions," Tylia scolded. The Spymaster yanked a loose strand of her hair, his face solemn but his eyes merry.

"You _never_ call me by title," he complained. In a less refined individual, the statement might have been called whining. "Call me by my _name_, Tylia."

"As you wish, Myrdaeraes," Tylia agreed, rolling dark green eyes. "Or would you prefer '_Kalaraes_8?'"

"Either is excellent," replied Myrdaeraes cheerfully.

"Excuse me." Scorpius had come up behind Tylia, Masaelaer at his side. Both bowed to Myrdaeraes, who gave a light bow in return.

"A pleasure, young one," the Spymaster said. "Your name is Scorpius, is it not?"

"Yes, Spymaster—"

"Myrdaeraes," the tall, dark-haired _Aer_ corrected, one finger raised in a polite appeal for Scorpius' attention.

"Myrdaeraes, then," Scorpius agreed, then turned to Tylia. "Your pardons, but did you just call him '_Kalaraes_?'"

"I did not," Tylia replied with a nod to Masaelaer. "Though I could, if it pleased me."

"We _Aelaer_ are often older than we look," Myrdaeraes commented with a laugh. "Even _her._"

Myrdaeraes gestured to his granddaughter and moved off to talk with Eileen, who was instantly charmed by the _Aer_'s grace and courtesy.

"What did he mean, Tylandraes?" Scorpius asked curiously. Tylia waggled gray-blue fingers at him and grinned.

"Ask around, Scorpius," she replied with a shrug and a wink to Masaelaer. "You'll find out all kinds of secrets about me."

And she promptly wandered off to speak with Their Majesties.

"Your Grace?" Scorpius turned to his companion, curiosity clear in his eyes.

"Call me by my name, please, _Thol_," Masaelaer replied with an easy smile. He was dark-haired and handsome, dark green eyes were soft, his smile genuine. "The Spymaster merely meant that _Tyrol_9 Tylandraes is older than you might assume."

"If you'll call me by mine. How old?" Scorpius demanded, though he kept his voice polite. On first name terms or not, the _Jhondraer_ before him was still nobility.

"Twenty-one years, as humans count the time," Masaelaer replied easily, then shook his head at the shock in Scorpius' face. "She is still very young."

"Twenty-one…" Scorpius turned to watch Tylia as she moved through the crowed, stopping to chat with this _Peji_10 and that _Shasylaer_11. "Wait, did you say '_Tyrol_?' As in 'Cousin?'"

"Yes, I did," Masaelaer replied with a shrug, then laughed at the renewed shock in Scorpius' face. "She is my cousin, yes, as much as Her Majesty is my sister."

"Wait." Scorpius took a deep breath, trying to analyze the information he had just been handed. "If you're a _Peji_, that would make Tylandraes a _Pelaer_, wouldn't it?"

"Yes, it would."

"And if Her Majesty is your sister, but you aren't a _Voli_12, that would mean that she married _into_ the Royal Line, right?"

"Yes."

"It also means that Tylia is cousin to royalty."

"Yes."

"That's insane. Can we change the subject?" Scorpius head hurt from trying to assimilate the fact that he had been associating with the cousin of the Queen of the Light Elves for the last week or so. Masaelaer nodded with a slight smile. "If you don't mind my asking, Masaelaer, how old are you?"

"Several human centuries," Masaelaer replied without hesitation. "Three quarters of a millennium give or take a few years. Why would I mind?"

"In my culture, it's rude to ask a person's age," Scorpius replied with a shrug.

"Of course," Masaelaer agreed with a slight bow, catching on quickly. "Because your race weakens as it ages, almost without exception. In our culture, age is a thing to be respected, even celebrated, for with age comes wisdom."

"That makes sense," commented a wry voice from behind Scorpius. He turned to see who it was and refrained from rolling his eyes at his sister and her guide. "Scorpius, this is Meiryrdaes, an Armsmaiden of Her Highness, the _Volaer._ Meiryrdaes, this is my brother, Scorpius."

"It is my pleasure to meet you, Scorpius," Meiryrdaes commented, bowing a little. She smiled, but it looked forced. Her pale green eyes never stayed in one place for long, flicking here and there as though looking for something. Her long, dark brown hair was pulled back into a braid. Scorpius could count six knives on her person, plus her bow and sword, which was deeply curved.

"The pleasure is mine," Scorpius replied, but he didn't mean the words. He met her eyes squarely when she narrowed her eyes at him, suspicious. "Your Grace, this is my sister, Pyra."

The Slytherin shook his head slightly with exasperation as Masaelaer took his sister's hand and brushed it with his lips. Pyra blushed slightly.

"Pyra, this is His Grace, _Peji_ Masaelaer."

"It is my pleasure to meet such a lovely young human," Masaelaer said with a smile and a bow.

"It is my pleasure to meet such a handsome young Elf," Pyra replied; returning the smile if not the bow. Scorpius scoffed under his breath; what would his sister say if he told her that this 'handsome young Elf' was seven hundred and fifty years old? A sudden pressure on her arm made her jump, and Masaelaer laughed quietly.

"You must learn to listen more," he commented as Pyra turned to glare at Tylia.

"I apologize for pulling you away from such an interesting conversation," Tylia said smoothly, removing her hand from Pyra's arm with a nod to the _Peji_ and a flash of a smile to Scorpius. "But there's someone I'd like you to meet, Pyra."

"Might I stay here?" Meiryrdaes inquired with a polite bow. "I would like to continue speaking with His Grace and Scorpius."

"As you wish," Tylia replied with a careless shrug. "Pyra, come."

Korthus took off from Scorpius' shoulder, creeling loudly before vanishing into the nearby trees. Petrius was still by Eileen, who was talking with Maerosi and the young man dressed all in black that Tylia had spotted earlier.

Few people knew that this _Jhondraer_, dark haired and deep-eyed, world-weary though young, was much more than he appeared to be. Most, even of Si Tys, believed him to be no more than a high-ranking nobleman, head of the _Volaer_'s Personal Guard. In reality, he was the _Tyrn Voli_13, Shondral.

Threading their way through Si Tys, Tylia introduced Pyra to a dizzying array of nobility before stopping at the tree line. A _Jhondraer_ was waiting there. She was shorter than most _Aelaer_, only five feet tall. Her chestnut hair was laced with streaks of blonde from the sun. Her eyes were richly chocolate, a color that wasn't often seen among _Jhondraelaer_, and they were full of mischief and curiosity.

"Pyra, this is Her Grace, _Pelaer_ Saeras," Tylia said, bowing to the _Aer_, who hugged her as she rose.

"_Don't_ get all formal on me, Tylia," Saeras commanded with a wicked grin. Giving Pyra a measuring look, she continued in the _Condraelael _tongue. "_Me nosse apilya_.14"

"She is _Peji_ Masaelaer' sister," Tylia continued as she gently pushed Saeras back. "Saeras, this is Pyra Malfoy. Pyra, if you're curious about anything, especially _Aelaer_ culture, Saeras is the one you want to talk to."

Pyra's eyes lit up and she began shooting rapid-fire questions, which Saeras answered with a grin before asking a few of her own. Tylia, satisfied, took off into the trees, leaving _Si Tys _and her three friends behind. Petrius would guard them well, with the help of the many _sholol_ he had befriended on previous visits. Korthus was gathering information on her behalf. Everything was going perfectly.

So why did she feel apprehension inching up her spine like some gods-cursed bug?

A hundred meters into the forest, Myrdaeraes was waiting with a highly amused look on his face.

"Do you _enjoy_ manipulating people, Tylandraes?"

"You know the answer to that, Myrdaeraes," Tylia replied with a grin that made her white teeth flash against ashy blue skin.

"Answer me anyway, _pandraes os madyrn_,15" Myrdaeraes commanded, with a mirrored grin.

"I should not have to answer so simple a question, _Myl os jhol_.16" Tylia loved this game, this name-calling and seeing how long she could keep from laughing.

"Ah, but simple questions do not always have simple answers, _Molaeslaes col_,17" the Spymaster refuted, raising a single long digit to emphasize his point.

"But this one does, _Vyraelys col_,18" Tylia replied, laughing at last. After a moment to emphasize his victory, Myrdaeraes joined her in her laughter.

"To be more serious, Tyl." Myrdaeraes sobered quickly, his near-black eyes suddenly full of worry and sadness. "Have you learned anything? The _Serdyr_ become more bold with every day. Only three days ago they took Thaeraecaes."

Tylia's eyes blazed with renewed fury. She had already heard of the death of her cousin. She had been Jhondraes' sister and a good friend. She was also _Volaer_ Selaesas' _Jhadia ail Sharol_ 19. That the _Trantzvlos_ could get so close to the royalty of _Si Kesol Thysaer_ was worrying.

"Nothing concrete, _Kalaraes_," Tylia replied, suddenly thinking of something she hadn't before. Had the image Hagrid seen, the one of a young _Jhondraer_ woman getting beaten, been Thaeraecaes? "But I'm working on it."

"You're hiding something from me," Myrdaeraes stated, a warning clear in his voice.

"_Don't_, Myrdaeraes." Tylia's voice was full of resignation—and caution.

"Don't what?" Myrdaeraes demanded, irritated with is granddaughter for the first time in his memory.

"_Don't_ ask me to explain. I can't," Tylia replied wearily.

"Why _not?_" the Spymaster was truly upset now, his eyes blazingly angry and flashing a lighter green in his fury and his posture rigid. "There are _lives_ at stake here, Tylandraes! You are withholding information from me that could get people _killed._"

Suddenly angry herself, Tylia leapt forward, stopping with her nose an inch from her grandfather's. She knew she was doing the right thing. Just because _he _didn't understand didn't give him the right to question her.

"And if I explain it could cause a _war._" Her voice was cold, clear and full of venom. Myrdaeraes stumbled back against a silver-barked tree, startled and more than a little afraid. He had seen what his granddaughter could do when she was angry, especially when she was acting like a _Pasaer._ "_I_ am not your enemy, Myrdaeraes. Do not treat me as such. If my information were not so dangerous to the _Aelaer_ peoples as a whole, I would tell you gladly. Be silent and trust my judgment. You used to, you know."

She turned on her heel and stalking back to the clearing, glowering in her fury. The _Jhondraelaer_ who saw her avoided her, bowing slightly before hurrying out of her way. Her expression did not lift until she heard Their Majesties announce that it was past time for their guests to enjoy the hospitality of the palace and of the _Jhondraelaer_. Scorpius, Pyra and Eileen, along with Petrius, _Peji_ Masaelaer, _Pelaer _Saeras and Maerosi, were gathered to walk behind the royalty.

His Highness the _Tyrn Voli_ was now walking with his sister, head bowed politely maintain his 'lower status.' Tylia smiled wickedly when she saw the strain in Selaesas' face. She knew for a fact Her Highness despised her brother's deception. She also knew that Selaesas understood its purpose.

While it was nearly impossible for the _Serdyr_ to strike at Their Majesties—who rarely left _Si Thysaer_—Their Highnesses were much more often at risk, as they often went to visit the other _Aelaer_ nations as ambassadors. The_ Tyrn Voli _would be the perfect target if he were known.

_Col_ Shondrelaes and _Cel_ Valas stood on either side of their children and began down a wide greensward path that appeared suddenly on the east side of the clearing. The guests walked behind, followed by Si Tys. Tylia saw Myrdaeraes slip in to walk with Eileen.

Tylia took to the trees beside the path, easily keeping pace with the large procession. About two hundred meters along the path there was a burst of laughter and a dozen or so _Jhondraelael_ children burst from the trees. They were dressed in bright colors—only Si Tys and Their Majesties stuck to the seasons—and they danced around and through the company, shouting many things in the _Aelael_ tongues, much of it nonsensical and all of it beautiful.

As the procession rounded a slow corner in the path, the children vanished as quickly as they had appeared, leaving a silence so deep that when the humans gasped at the view before them, the sound was clearly audible.

In a massive clearing grew an enormous tree, the largest that any creature on earth could ever hope to see. She was twelve hundred feet across at the base and she narrowed very little on the way to her soaring two thousand foot canopy. Her bark was a dark silver-gray and her leaves glowed burnished gold in the sunlight.

"Welcome to the Royal Palace," the _Col_ announced proudly. "Her name is Tyraesi."

It was only after this statement that Scorpius noticed that the great tree had been carved hollow, with many levels—distinguishable by the levels of windows, though the heartwood showed brilliantly silver through the open doors on the first level.

"How—excuse me, Your Majesties?" Eileen squeaked, and then coughed. When she spoke again, her voice was stronger. "Could I ask a question?"

"Of course," replied the _Col_ with a humble bow.

"How-How could a culture as loving of nature as yours harm such a beautiful thing?"

A sound like the rustling of thousands of leaves in the wind made Eileen jump slightly before she realized that it was the laughter of the entire _Tys_. Tylia, still perched in her tree, laughed in a more conventional manner.

"Dear _Thol_," Selaesas began with a gentle laugh. The _Volaer_'s brilliantly green eyes were filled with soft amusement. "We would never harm her. And she is not a 'thing.' She is an entity, the heart of _Si Thysaer _and of our people."

"But-but you gutted her," Eileen objected, confused enough to accept the idea of a tree being female without comment.

"No. We Sang her hollow with her own permission," replied a voice that Eileen didn't recognize, but it seemed to hold an immeasurable, undeniable authority. A slim _Jhondraer_ seemed to materialize in front of Eileen, who jumped again. His hair was black but his eyes were the same burnished gold as Tyraesi's leaves.

"Eileen," Myrdaeraes began with a bow to the newcomer that the entire Tys mirrored. "Might I introduce His Highness, the youngest of our _Voli_? His name is Masys and he is Tyraesi's _Aelai_20 to our people. Once every thousand years such an Envoy is born, one who can speak with the heart of our people. Their eyes are always that color, the color of her leaves."

"You doubt my words, Eileen?" Masys' voice was soft and his gaze direct, but the cloak of power had not gone away. Eileen nodded tremblingly and Masys smiled, pleased that she would not lie, even through her nervousness. His smile was a thing of the same sudden beauty as the first bloom of spring. "Come with me, then, if you wish to know the truth."

He held out his hand to her, his faintly tanned skin stark against the dark grey of his clothes. She took the offer without hesitation and followed when he drew her through the crowd.

Tylia leapt down into the empty space left by Eileen's departure. Pyra and Scorpius jumped, but Si Tys did not even acknowledge her presence.

"What's going on, Tylia?" Pyra demanded, turning to her as Si Tys began to follow Eileen and Masys.

"She's going to speak with Tyraesi," Tylia replied tonelessly, but her eyes blazed with curiosity. In all her studies, Tylia had never heard of any but _Si Aelai_ conversing with the great tree and certainly never a _human._

By the time the entire _Tys_, guests and all, had passed the great doors, Eileen's palms were flat on the central heartwood, which glowed a faint silver in the light from many torches in the hall. Masys stood just behind her, his arms along hers and his hands just next to hers. Both were smiling, eyes closed and heads back slightly.

After a few moments, Eileen stumbled back, right into His Highness, who pulled away more slowly, keeping his arms around the human so that she wouldn't fall. Eileen turned as though half asleep to look up into Masys' golden eyes.

"She's _alive,_" the young woman breathed, her eyes wide with wonder.

"Did I not tell you?" Masys inquired with another brilliantly beautiful smile. There was no pride or arrogance in his voice, merely happiness that Eileen now understood. "She is magnificent, though a bit…heady for the first few _Tystelol_21."

"_Very_ heady," Eileen agreed, returning his smile and pulling gently away from his arms, which were still around her waist. He let her go with a slight bow.

"You get used to the age of her, after a while."

Eileen nodded and gave him another, shyer smile before moving back to Myrdaeraes' side. Petrius rubbed his large head against her hand and she petted him absently as Masys addressed Si Tys.

"We bid welcome to our guests, do Tyraesi and I! Welcome and well met! 'Enjoy my rooms,' she bids you, 'and if you become lost, you need only ask one of my people or speak the name of my _Aelai_ and you will be recovered, for I will send him to you to help you find your way again.' Go, _Thol_, be merry and explore!"

"One thing more do we ask you," interjected the _Col_ before anyone could get going. "Most of Tyraesi's doors will open with the slightest touch. You are welcome in any of these rooms. But there are some places that are private, and those doors will not open. We ask that, if you come across such a door, you will please not attempt to force your way."

"Also," added the _Cel_ with a raised hand and a patient smile. "If you find an empty room that you like, please call Masys so that we may know where you are to sleep. You will be with us for seven sunsets, we are told. We wish you to be comfortable."

With a gracious wave of her hand, she dismissed Si Tys and the guests. It was only then that any of the humans noticed that, at the far end of the great, high-ceilinged hall that they were in, there was a table heavily laden with food and drink.

"The drinks in clear cups are water, or juices of various kinds," Saeras commented as they wandered over. "Red is wine—light stuff, but don't mix it with any other color."

"Why not?" Pyra inquired curiously.

"Because you'll get _appallingly_ sick," replied the _Peji_ in a dry voice.

"Quite," Saeras agreed with a mocking smile for her brother. "Blue is ale—headier than the wine, but safe to mix. Green is whiskey strong enough to knock out a _Pas._22"

"'Dwarf?'" Scorpius asked, instantly intent on a culture he didn't know.

"One of the rarer Magical Peoples, I'm afraid," Saeras replied with a smile to Scorpius, who returned it with a bow. "Amazing with smithcraft and architecture and their poetry is not for the lighthearted. Excellent with anything that has anything to do with stone. They also brew many fine alcohols and are very resilient to the effects of alcohol."

"So a drink strong enough to knock out a Dwarf, a _Pas_—" Eileen began, though her eyes were on Masys as he stood in communication with Tyraesi again, his face rapt.

"—is exceedingly potent," Masaelaer finished, picking up a glass of wine and offering it to Tylia, who declined, and then to Pyra, who accepted it and sipped cautiously. It was sweet beyond words without being sickeningly so and had a tart aftertaste that balanced perfectly with the initial sweetness.

Tylia took a blue cup; Scorpius a clear one filled with a golden liquid. Eileen took the juice that Masaelaer offered her, sipping it absently. All of the _Aelaer_ took red cups except for Meiryrdaes, who took a green one. This Tylia noted with interest: few _Jhondraelaer_ had the stomach for _Pasol Shori_23, as the drink was called, though many _Pasaelaer_ loved the stuff. In the Underdark, the drink was called _Hargluk Vlos_24.

Without a word, Tylia slipped away, cup in hand, intent on getting to her rooms and sleeping. She brushed Masys' shoulder as she passed him, though she received no response; she hadn't expected one.

"_Tyrol_, may I speak with you?" A rich, deep voice called to her and she smiled. She paused at the foot of the wide staircase and turned to see _Col_ Shondrelaes coming toward her. Her smile was not there for _him_ to see, though, and she regarded him disdainfully.

"If you must, _Valuk_25," she replied and he flinched at the address in the _Pasaelael_ tongue. She smiled wickedly at his discomfort.

_Stop it, Tylandraes!_ Tylia looked about and saw Petrius' scarlet eyes glaring at her from the crowd.

_No._

"Please, do not stop your progress on my account," Shondrelaes commented, recovering himself quickly and gesturing for her to continue up the stairs, which she did. "Are you displeased with how _Si Tys _has treated your friends? Or are you merely playing your usual game?"

"I was not aware that I ever played a game with you, _Valuk_," Tylia replied, a warning hard in her voice. Then she continued grudgingly as they climbed out of sight of _Si Tys_. "But you and your _Tys _have treated my _allies_ as well as may be expected."

"You are a part of _Si Tys _as well, _Pelaer_," the _Col_ reminded her gently. He stepped back as Tylia whirled to face him, but no fear showed in his face; unlike Myrdaeraes, this _Aer_ had never seen what she could do when angry.

"I am part of no culture, _Valuk Darthirii_26," Tylia spat, venom in her voice and annoyance in her blazingly green eyes that this… _Darthirii d'gorch'n'nehr vlos_27 would try to make a pet of her. "Not yours, not that of my cousins in the _Har'oloth_28, not that of my allies at Hogwarts. Do not attempt to lay claim to me, _Valuk._ Do not attempt to tame me. You will fail."

"You would accuse a _Jhondraer_ of trying to tame _anything_?" Shondrelaes inquired blandly, no accusation and just a hint of incredulity in his voice.

"Every time I come here, you try to trap me in the machinations of _Si Tys_," Tylia replied with no less venom. "You offer me a cage of beauty and of laughter but it is a cage nonetheless. I will accept caging no more than your precious Lamela will."

"I offer you a _home,_ _Tyrol_," the _Col_ corrected easily, eagerly, though a flash of discomfort crossed his eyes at the mention of the _sholol_ that accompanied him.

"And once accepted, you would have me fall prey to the predators in _Si Tys_, never again free to make my own way. Never free to leave this place but at _your_ bidding. All of _Si Thysaer_ was tamed millennia ago when, between the _cestal_ and the _Pasaelaer_, this island became a _prison_!"

Tylia continued up the stairs, leaving a flustered Shondrelaes to return to _Si Tys_. Twelve stories up—130 feet above the forest floor—Tylia finally stopped stalking up the stairs and started down a corridor. Outside a plain wooden door, she stopped entirely. She touched the door and it opened of its own accord.

The room was small compared to many in the palace. A small, plush bed—the mattress stuffed with aromatic leaves and herbs—dominated one corner. A little window gave her a view of the forest below. Another doorway led into a bathing room and a small chest-of-drawers was built into the wall across from the bed, near the door. The entire room was done in soft, silvery blues and greens. Her black bag was resting on the bed, a pair of letters next to it.

Her eyes lit up at the sight of the letters and she stepped into the room quickly, letting the door shut behind her. With the patience born of her _Aelael_ blood, she neatly put her clothes in the drawers and hid the crystal ball, which she had brought with her, in a cubby that only Tyraesi and Tylia herself knew about. Tylia had Sung it out herself without the knowledge of any other _Aer_.

Only when that was finished did she allow herself to settle onto the bed and open the black enveloped letter that waited for her.

* * *

* * *

1King

2Queen

3The Court of a Thousand Summers

4The Court

5Princess

6Duchess

7Spymaster

8Grandfather

9 Cousin

10Duke

11Baroness

12Prince

13Crown Prince

14We're family, after all.

15Daughter of shadows

16Son of light

17Silkweaver's kin; a reference to Jhyr, often called 'the Silkenweaver.' Indeed, House Zauval is named after this moniker for Jhyr; Zauval translates to 'children of the Silkenweaver.'

18Protector's kin; a reference to Tysaelyl Jhasaerol, god of the Jhondraelaer, often called 'the Protector.'

19Lady in Waiting

20Envoy; a title among the Light Elves that one is born into. All Envoys have eyes the color of burnished gold and can speak with Tyraesi

21Communions; the accepted term for speaking with Tyraesi

22Dwarf

23Dwarfin Whiskey

24Dwarf Blood

25King

26Elf; generally used as a derogatory term for Surface Elves, all those who claim Elven lineage but are not Pasaelaer

27Elf of Stainless blood; a phrase that Tylia came up with to insult an Elf of a single culture line

28Underdark


	9. Chapter 8

**Chapter Eight: Letters in the Forest**

'My niece,

Have you learned anything of import? I heard that the _Trantzvlos_ took your cousin; I am sorry for your loss. Please, give the Royalty of your other culture my condolences in a way that will not anger them.

Are you acting the proper _Sekevlos_ while in the L'Taur1? Will you remain so for your stay here, or revert? There is an _or'shanse_2 planned for the day after your arrival, so you may want to remain.

What your allies will think of the ceremony I do not know. I do know, however, that _Dalninil-ssinssrigg_3 has informed our _Ilharess_4 that she will be returning to _Har'oloth _for the first time in almost a century.

I, at least, will welcome her.

_L'Jallil d'Orbben_5 sends her greetings and says that she fully expects you to participate in the _or'shanse_. What should I tell her?

—Vlosorbb'

_Damn._ Tylia quickly reread the letter, particularly the parts about a sacrifice, before flinging it across the room. Born by the weight of its silver ink, it thudded on the door. As if in response to this abuse, a small crystal at eye height began to glow with a soft light. _Xsa_6.

Tylia groaned—someone wanted in. With an effort, she schooled her expression to disdainful boredom and rose. Scooping up the letter, she folded it gently, lovingly, as though in apology for throwing it, and placed it gently in the top drawer of the nearby dresser.

The crystal turned blue as she touched the door and then its light faded. Her trio of humans—plus Petrius—was standing there. They seemed to have given their guides the slip, which made the _Orondralas_ grin; Maerosi would be panicking within the hour. The lovely _Jhondraer_ took her responsibilities very seriously.

"Did you want something," Tylia drawled, lounging against the door. "Or are you just bothering me?"

"She told us that we could find you here," Eileen replied calmly. Tylia examined her closely. Her eyes and face were calm and open, her smile simple and sweet. She was very still, unlike Tylia had ever seen her.

"'She?'" Tylia asked, as unnerved by Eileen's sudden stillness as Eileen had been by Tylia's change to darkness.

"Tyraesi," Eileen answered quietly, her silver eyes coming up slowly to meet Tylia's green ones.

"Then you _are_ just here to bother me," Tylia sighted, hiding her sudden anxiety behind a roll of her eyes.

Letting a visitor commune _once_ with Tyraesi was precedent enough. Only the _Aelai_—until now—had ever spoken with the great tree more than once in a lifetime.

"No." Eileen's voice, so full of energy before her mind had touched that of the great tree, was smooth and calm, like a slow river, and as warm as midsummer. "We came to ask if you had any rooms to suggest to us. They are all so large and so beautiful."

"I would like a room higher up, so that I can see more of _Si Thysaer_," Pyra commented, glancing out the little window that was opposite the door.

"As long as it's near the _Jhordasia_7—surely the palace has a _**Jhordasia**_—I don't care if I sleep in a closet," Scorpius added fervently.

"And you, _shai mael shor kaer tol_8?" Tylia inquired with boredom evident in her voice.

"Something simple," Eileen replied thoughtfully. "Like yours."

A pair of _Jhondraelaer_ passed behind the humans with light bows and a whispered '_Thol_.'

"Easy enough," Tylia yawned—she really was tired all of a sudden. "Scorpius, go up six flights and down the hall with the green trimmings. The _Jhordasia_ is at the end of that hall. Try the door with the silver star; you ought to like that one.

"Pyra, go down this hall and to your right. The door with the emerald crescent is the _Jhos_9. It'll take you to _Si Saeryr Vys;_10 I think it's empty now.

"Eileen, go back down a flight and to your left. The blue hall should suit your wishes."

"Thank you," chorused the humans. Scorpius was gone before the words were out of his mouth. Pyra left quickly, too, but Eileen floated serenely down the hallway toward the stairs.

"Eileen!" Tylia called, a question leaping suddenly to her mind. Eileen turned to face her friend. "Why couldn't you just ask Tyraesi?"

"I did." The reply was simple and completely matter-of-fact. "She told me to ask you. She said that whether you are acting like one of your mother's people or not, you need interaction. You need fr—allies."

Eileen laughed and danced suddenly down the stairs, her pale green dress flaring as she twirled. Tylia shook her head and let the door close again. She pulled Vlosorbb's letter from the drawer and brought it back to the bed, laying it on the bedside table.

Fighting her sudden weariness, she picked up the other letter and smiled when she saw Theodore's precise handwriting.

_More chattering, I see._

Tylia spun and crouched, a knife appearing in her hand before her eyes met Petrius'. He had come in while Tylia was talking with Eileen and was stretched across the doorway.

"Petrius, _don't_ do that!" Tylia snarled, putting her dagger back in its place and picking up the letter she had dropped.

_It isn't my fault that you weren't paying attention,_ Petrius sniffed, his tail twitching. _Since they are all splitting up, I set some sholol on them and came here to spend time with you._

Tylia sagged visibly and beckoned to him. He rose and crossed the small room to her and she buried her face in the soft fur of his neck.

_Thanks Pet._

_If it is so hard for you to do this, then why do it?_ Petrius asked quietly, his deep, rumbling purr beginning to fill the room.

_Because they need to have Mother's people shoved in their faces,_ Tylia replied wearily. _They need to be able to see Mother and Uncle and Vol'axle past __Ilharess__ Zauval and __L'Zhennu Jallil_11_ and the Trantzvlos._

_And if they refuse to see?_

_Then at least I **tried**, Pet. At least I will have tried._ Tylia pulled away. Her face—and his fur—was dry, but her eyes were full of tears. She dashed them away before they could fall.

Leaning against the bed, Petrius' warm, solid, purring weight draped across her legs, Tylia slit open Theodore's letter.

'Tylia,

I have always tried to be polite. My godfather tells me that Dad always was, and I try to emulate him. _Jhondraelaer_ and _Pasaelaer_ are not hard to _hear of_ in my line of work. It's hearing anything _of consequence_ that's hard. The spellings I got from a goblin-friend who claimed to have been to the Underdark. Glad to see he got them right.

It was obvious to me that she was--is--intelligent, but then, I _am_ more in tune with natural creatures than most 'two-leggers.' I am an archeologist with a group of Muggles. I make certain that no obviously magical items find their way into Muggle hands. Even those not found by my team I buy or, in very extreme cases, steal.

I originally heard of the _Aelael_ peoples from a young-looking fellow-and by 'young' I mean that he appeared to be twenty-eight or so-with darkly tanned skin, the kind one usually sees on sailors. Blonde-haired and eyes the precise color of the sea when hit by the noontime sun that were as sharp as any hawk's. My crew and I were digging near the coast of France and this fellow just ambled into camp and sat down near the fire without a word. He cooked us the best fried fish I have ever tasted, too. He said that he was a renegade, though he wouldn't say from what. He thanked us for letting him stay in our camp for the night and, in exchange, told us some stories that—and I quote him here—'most humans had lost to the inevitable tides of time.'

The bow and quiver I found together in the south of Africa. The knife I found in France, at the same dig that I met the fellow who told me of _Aelaer_. The sword I found in Spain and the music box washed up on the shore of California. I bought it in a curiosity shop.

'_Aelael_ War?'

If they would be so wanted by your families, then it would be my honor to return them. Could I, however, ask for one small concession? Allow me to return them _in person?_ I would be forever grateful if that could be arranged.

What wouldn't I give to see the Summer Court, even in their winter regalia? What wouldn't I give to meet the Lady of Spiders in the Underdark, though I would probably be killed for the pleasure? Wishful thinking, eh?

Your friend,

Theodore Lupin'

Tylia laughed, a true, pleased laugh that left her in tears.

_Is something wrong?_ Petrius inquired sleepily, lifting his great head to look at her.

"No, my Pet, my darling," Tylia replied with a happy sigh and another laugh. "Everything is _perfect._ Bring Korthus to me?"

Petrius sent out a call for the _sholol_ as Tylia slid out from underneath him and found a pen and a piece of paper and scripted her reply to Theodore with a hand that trembled from suppressed laughter.

'Theodore.

It can be arranged. Be ready at sunrise on the second day of Hogwarts' Winter Break—surely you know when your godbrother went on break! Be near a tree with long branches, and show Korthus where you will be waiting. I shall come to fetch you myself.

See you soon,

Tylia

P.S. It is 'The Court of a Thousand Summers,' not that any _Maer_12 would know _that! _**'**

Korthus fluttered in through the open window as she finished writing. Tylia fastened the note to her leg and gave the bird a firm look.

"Take this _directly_ to Theodore Lupin, please," she asked the _sholol_. "Make certain he gets it _tonight._ Make sure you know where he will be waiting, please. Take the _Vysar_13 if you must."

Korthus creeled her agreement and sailed back out the way she had come. Tylia fell onto the bed laughing again.

_What has put you in such a good mood suddenly, Tylandraes?_ Petrius asked sleepily._ Not that I'm complaining, mind you._

"Before the end of this break," Tylia replied when she caught her breath. "Si Tys will be indebted to a _human._ And _L'Zhennu Jallil_ will be indebted to a human _male!_"

The very thought sent Tylia back into fits of laughter. She calmed only slowly and did not rise when the _melaer taer_14 bell was tolled. As the darkness deepened, the crystal on her door glowed a soft green again.

_Who is it, Petrius?_

_Young Master Malfoy, I believe,_ Petrius replied easily. _And alone._

With her hand on the wooden wall, Tylia willed the door open. It obeyed silently and the _Orondralas _let her hand fall. It was indeed Scorpius and he _was_ alone. He held a tray with an assortment of _Jhondraelael_ foods on it. Before he could speak, Tylia's voice rang out.

"Have you ever met Theodore Lupin?"

"Yes," replied the young man, stepping inside and allowing the door to close. "He's Albus' godbrother. Why?"

"He will be joining us here and in the Underdark," Tylia explained with a shrug as Scorpius placed the tray in the open space on the clean floor. "Starting tomorrow."

"Excellent! Teddy's a great guy," Scorpius replied with a smile. "I brought you some dinner, since you didn't come down for it. I hope you don't mind. Petrius, there's steak for you, as well. Venison, I think Masaelaer said it was."

Petrius gave a cat's bow and started on the venison as Tylia rolled onto her stomach.

"What've you got there?" she inquired, her eyes glancing over the tray.

"The soup is exquisite," he replied thoughtfully. "The salad is also very good, but the _por os paern bar masol_15 is by far the best. Also, I noticed that you had ale before, so I brought you the same."

"Thank you," Tylia murmured softly, sliding off the bed to sit next to Petrius. She picked up the salad first, eating it in small bites. "The ale is the only of the alcohols that I like; the wine is too sweet and the whiskey too strong."

"I'm glad you like what I brought," Scorpius admitted with a sheepish grin. "There was so much, I wasn't sure what to bring."

She gave him a soft smile as she finished the salad.

"You brought all of my favorites," Tylia assured him, picking up the soup after a drink of ale.

"May I ask you a question?" Scorpius inquired quietly, almost hesitantly. He fiddled absently with the copper pendant around his neck. Tylia noticed that he had found a thin copper chain for it; she approved.

"I suppose you may," Tylia agreed slowly, putting the soup down gently. "But I reserve the right not to answer."

_Or to cut your tongue from your mouth if you get too personal,_ Petrius added with a yawn that showed off his own large tongue—not to mention his _teeth._

"That, too," Tylia agreed with a grin.

"All the _Aelaer_ I have spoken with say that you are acting like a _Pasaer._ Or they say that you are losing a fight with your _madyrdorol_." Tylia nodded to both, noticing that he was phrasing his comments very carefully. "But you are kind to me. How are both possible?"

"Not all _Pasaelaer_ are evil, Scorpius," Tylia replied quietly, her eyes holding his. Her voice was soft, like velvet, the kind of voice that most humans can't help but listen to, but there was steel beneath the velvet. "As a matter of fact, the _majority_ are not, now, and a fair number are actually quite kind. Only the _Trantzvlos_ and select others keep up the vileness of past centuries. The culture still needs work—what with ritual sacrifices and such—but there is much of it that is beautiful and wonderful."

She took a deep breath and continued.

"My mother has never been anything but kind to you, and yet she does not act like anything but a _Pasaer_. My Uncle is the kindest, sweetest, most noble person I have ever met, yet he has attained the highest post that a male can in _Pasaelael_ culture."

"I didn't mean to offend," Scorpius interjected quickly when Tylia paused again.

"You didn't," Tylia replied wearily.

"And I still don't, but that didn't answer my question."

"Then rephrase the question," Tylia suggested bluntly.

"Why _me?_" Scorpius asked just as bluntly.

Tylia stiffened, then rose and opened the door. Taking the hint, Scorpius rose as well, and left with a bow. Tylia caught him gently by the arm before he could get far and he turned back and caught the sad look in the _Orondralas_' eyes.

"Because you are _special,_ Scorpius," she informed him softly. "Because people like you are rare."

"And what kind of person is that?" Scorpius inquired with equal softness, hoping that he hadn't gone too far by asking another question. His heart was racing suddenly, though he couldn't think why.

"Someone who sees no barriers," Tylia replied in her lilting voice. "Or who breaks them when he does."

She kissed him gently on the cheek and retreated into her room. She closed the door firmly and picked up what was left of her dinner, placing the entire ensemble next to the door—it would be gone by morning, one of the many workers in the palace come to collect it. She collapsed into her bed and was asleep within moments.

* * *

* * *

1The Forest; what Vlosorbb calls The Guarding Forest

2Sacrifice

3Sister-love; how Vlosorbb refers to Jallilvlos

4Matron; the individual female that rules a particular House

5The Lady of Spiders; the highest rank to which a female Pasaer can ascend, the Lady of Spiders is the voice of Jhyr in the Underdark, her highest ranking priestess. It is not a title that a single Pasaer usually carries for long. The current Lady has been such for nearly a century, which is a record.

6Damn

7Library

8Who speaks with great minds

9Lift; a magical room that leads two places only: the Ground Floor and the Treetop Room

10The Treetop Room; the highest room in Tyraesi, the floor is approximately 1830 feet off of the forest floor. All of the windows in this room are well above the other treetops, so that an expansive view of Si Thysaer may be had.

11The Great Lady; a way to refer to the Lady of Spiders

12Sea Elf

13Portals; a particular group of trees that can transport the user to specific places based on what the user envisions. Saerar is a Portal; in fact he is _the_ Portal. The first and eldest of his race

14Sunset meal

15Literally 'dish of dew and starlight;' a Jhondraelael dish similar to casserole that is made of many things. It is light and almost melts on the tongue.


	10. Chapter 9

**Chapter Nine: Fetching Back**

_Dawn comes later here than in his part of the world,_ Petrius added as Tylia glared at him. Korthus had returned only an hour or so earlier and told him where Theodore would be waiting.

"Not _this_ much later," grumped the _Aer._

_You do not wish to look presentable when first you meet Master Lupin?_ Petrius inquired with a hint of a laugh in his voice. _You must bathe, dress._

_Alright, alright!_

Tylia grudgingly slid out of bed and showered, grumbling incoherently to Petrius in Undercommon the entire time. By the time she was finished, she was awake and excited again, as the _pa'das_ had known she would be.

"Korthus, where is he?" she asked as she quickly dried her hair and dressed. She combed out her hair and tied it back as Korthus gave her the information she would need to retrieve her newest guest. "Excellent and thank you."

Tylia exited her room, straightening her clothes as she descended the stairs. Black boots, black linen breeches, black shirt. Her ebony bracelet had been replaced by a pair of spider-lace black-gold armguards and her satin choker with one of black-gold chain, tiny rubies embedded into the shape of House Zauval's symbol.

So early in the morning, not even Si Tys was up and about. Tylia saw no one until she got to the ground floor. There, Masys stood in _tystelol _with Tyraesi. Tylia crossed the ground hall silently. As she exited, she heard Masys invite Eileen, who was hiding in the shadows, to join him.

Tylia shook her head and continued on to a much, much smaller tree nearby. His bark was very pale silver, almost white and his leaves were a pale, delicate green.

"Good morning, Saerar," Tylia murmured, patting him on the trunk as she passed in. As she stepped through his doorway, she visualized the tree that Korthus had described to her, a tall, slender beech with long, flexible limbs.

She heard a curse as she stepped through the portal, her eyes closed to guard against the brilliant light.

"—could've warned me," grumbled an unknown voice, distinctly human with a slight accent that seemed composed of many places. "Could have told me about the bright light."

"My apologies." Tylia, eyes clear because she hadn't caught the flash of light, smirked as she glanced this man up and down. He straightened at the sound of her voice, and bowed, though he still couldn't see her.

He was dressed almost lazily in black robes with pale embroidery in many colors. Under the robes he wore a black Muggle t-shirt with the words 'I :heart: DIRT' in pale brown except the heart, of course, which was bright red and black jean pants, as well as black combat boots that looked not unlike Tylia's own. His light brown hair was streaked with gold and it was short and spiked. A nice enough looking man, the halfbreed supposed.

He had a black backpack set against a rock nearby and a flat wooden case set on top of it.

"I beg your pardon?" Theodore asked politely, and then he stepped back before looking at Tylia with pale brown eyes. "Is he yours?"

He gestured to a space outside of Tylia's vision and his eyes followed the gesture. Before she could turn to see what he meant, Petrius replied.

_No, I am not._ Tylia rolled her eyes at the silky pride in the _pa'das_' voice. _Though I am often with her._

_I hadn't realized that you came with me, Petrius,_ Tylia said in an almost dangerous voice. At the same time—and after Theodore had jumped nearly out of his skin from the shock of being addressed by a black panther—she said to the human: "No, Petrius is not 'mine.' However, we are rarely separated. He is highly intelligent, and, as you might have noticed, telepathic."

_Since when did I have to tell you everything that I did?_ Petrius inquired rhetorically.

"Yes, I noticed. 'Petrius?'" Theodore asked, taking a step toward where the big feline was standing. Then, as though recovering himself, he bowed. "It is a pleasure to meet you, Petrius."

_Be certain that it remains a pleasure,_ Petrius advised.

"And you, Tylia," Theodore continued with a further bow. Bringing his eyes up to meet hers, he stepped back again, as though seeing her for the first time. She smirked as she felt his eyes travel down her body and back up to her eyes. He flushed brightly.

"The pleasure is mine, Theodore Lupin," Tylia replied in a velvet voice. She gestured to herself and continued. "Are you disappointed with what you see?"

"No!" Theodore looked shocked and Tylia laughed, which only made Theodore blush more. "No, not at all. I hadn't been quite sure of what to expect of you, but…you are quite beautiful."

"Did you expect less of an _Aer?_" Tylia demanded arrogantly. Petrius snickered into her mind.

"I have never met an Elf before," Theodore reminded her. "I didn't know _what_ to expect."

"That's not true," Tylia mused, her eyes still on his face. It was clear and open, and the confusion he felt at her statement was instantly visible. "The gentleman that you described as telling you of _Aelaer_ matches the general description of a _Maer_."

"You mentioned that word in your note," Theodore replied with a slight smile. "Forgive me, but I know little of the Elven languages. What does it mean?"

"Sea Elf."

"He was an Elf…" It was not a question. Theodore's eyes had gone slightly out of focus, as though he were putting together pieces of a puzzle. "Some how, that doesn't surprise me in the least. "If '_Maer_' is 'Sea Elf," then what are '_Jhondraelael_' and '_Pasaelael_?'"

"I can give you language lessons later," Tylia replied dismissively. "For now, let's get you into _Si Thysaer_ and settled."

"Of course," Theodore agreed at once, slinging his bag over one shoulder as Tylia reached for the wooden case that she assumed held the weapons that Theodore had found. "That is _very_ heavy, Tylia, perhaps I—"

_Elves are stronger than they look,_ Petrius commented as Theodore fell silent because Tylia had lifted the case without seeming effort.

"Apparently," Theodore replied and he bowed again. "Forgive me."

"For what?" Tylia asked as she concentrated to bring Saerar's latent magic back into use from so far away.

"For assuming that you are as frail as you look."

"Most humans underestimate the first few _Aelaer_ they meet," Tylia replied with a shrug. "Just make sure that, if you're going to do it again, do it before we get to the Underdark."

_The light will be coming back,_ Petrius drawled a split second before the blinding gold light lit up the area again.

"Bloody hell," Theodore muttered under his breath. Petrius wrapped his long tail around one of Theodore's legs and tugged. Theodore followed him reflexively through the portal.

Tylia stepped through after him and let the portal collapse as a babble of the _Jhondraelael_ tongue assaulted her ears.

Someone was yelling, but Tylia couldn't see her face and didn't recognize her voice. Theodore looked thoroughly startled, and thoroughly impressed. He had dropped his bag and Petrius had released his tail-hold and sat down near the human's feet. Korthus appeared, glinting in the early-morning sun, to land on Theodore's shoulder.

Tylia could see her other three humans standing in the crowd of _Si Tys_. Scorpius quickly came to stand near Theodore and Pyra followed him. Eileen remained near Masys, who was speaking quickly and quietly with the _Jhondraer_ that was yelling.

She quickly placed the wooden case on the ground at Saerar's base and touched Theodore's shoulder gently. He stooped slightly so that she could speak into his ear.

"They aren't yelling at you, Theodore," she informed him, eyeing the _Jhondraer_ who was making such a fuss. The woman was dressed in the dark gray of the Royal Guard. "They're yelling at_ me_."

_Petrius, make them **shut up**, please._

_Masters, Lady. _Petrius addressed Scorpius, Pyra and Theodore as he rose and stretched, showing off his teeth and claws in the process. _It is about to get very loud in here. You might want to cover your ears._

The three humans glanced at each other warily, but took the suggestion to heart.

_**Now,** Petrius._

At her command, Petrius _roared._ The sound was so loud that everyone except Tylia flinched, and the _Jhondraer_ in front of him actually collapsed, blood trickling from one ear.

Again, Theodore looked shocked. This time, the entire court was with him in his surprised state.

_She'll be fine,_ Petrius assured him as Tylia stepped forward into the sudden stillness; everyone had fallen silent, watching the halfbreed with a mixture of wonder and resentment. The royalty stepped forward to meet her. _Tyrn Voli_ Shondral helped the injured _Aer_ up and into the crowd.

"What is going on here?" Tylia demanded coolly before the royalty could say anything.

"That is _precisely_ what we would like to know," replied the _Cel_ with equal chill to her voice.

"I was not speaking to you, _Ussta Valsharess_1," Tylia objected with a sneer. Like her husband had the night before, Tylia's cousin flinched at the address in Undercommon. "Masys?"

_Careful, Tylandraes,_ warned Petrius. Scorpius, standing beside and behind her where no one could see what he was doing, put his fingertips on her shoulder blade in a gesture that conveyed much the same message. _You are playing with elemental fire_2_ here, if you catch my drift._

"When you left _Si Thysaer_," Masys began in his calm, quiet voice. His golden eyes took in Theodore before meeting Tylia's. "Tyraesi informed me. When you started back with a human, she informed my parents."

"And they saw fit to inform all of _Si Tys_?" Tylia inquired scornfully. "What is the purpose of this…_spectacle_?"

"What is the purpose of you bringing yet another human into _Si Thysaer_?" demanded the _Jhondraer_ that Shondral had helped up, the blood from her wounded ear brilliantly scarlet against her lividly pale skin. "They are a danger to our people!"

Tylia's eyes blazed and she stepped forward, away from Scorpius' comforting touch. The _Jhondraer_ did not back away, though Tylia saw a flicker of fear in her now-familiar face.

_A question asked calmly has more impact than an accusation made in anger,_ Petrius commented quickly. It was something that Myrdyl often told her. Taking the reminder to heart, Tylia took a deep breath before speaking.

"Your grandfather shamed our people and your family during the _Aelael_ War." Her voice was soft and filled with pity. "Will you do the same during a time of peace, Bydyrdaes?"

Bydyrdaes flinched, but no one else had heard a word. She opened her mouth to respond, but Tylia overruled her.

"The only dangers to our people, Bydyrdaes," the halfbreed continued in a voice pitched to be heard by all. "Are the _Serdyr_ and ignorance. These humans are not _Serdyr _and they are here because they wish to remedy their ignorance. Do not place shame on them for that."

From somewhere in the back of the crowd, someone began to clap. From the clink of metal rings, Tylia knew that it was her grandfather who had started the applause. It swelled quickly until all of Si Tys was clapping, and Tylia smiled. Then she remembered that Bydyrdaes was one of her grandfather's Breezes, and almost grimaced, knowing the reprimand that would be in store for the _Jhondraelaer_.

"As for Theodore—" she gestured him forward and he stepped up next to her as Bydyrdaes moved back to stand behind the royalty. "—he bears gifts, which I wished to be a surprise."

"And what would these 'gifts' be?" asked Selaesas.

"Three items which have not been seen since the beginning of the _Aelael_ War," Tylia replied mysteriously. That was when the whispers started; all of _Si Tys _was wondering what Tylia could possibly be talking about.

With a mysterious smile for _Si Tys _and the royalty, Tylia picked up the case again, gestured for Theodore to retrieve his bag, and led him through the crowd of _Si Tys_, which parted before her, though a few eyed the case with suspicion. Scorpius and Pyra followed, joined by _Voli_ Masys, Eileen, Myrdaeraes, _Peji_ Masaelaer and his sister.

As she mounted Tyraesi's grand staircase, Masys murmured to Theodore the same explanation of the great tree that the other humans had received. With a smile for the _Voli_, Theodore caught up to Tylia.

"This palace—Tyraesi—looks very grand," he began, touching Tylia's shoulder to make sure he had her attention. "I'm not used to it. Could my room be more…simple?"

"You'll room near me, if that's alright," replied the halfbreed with a touch of cool to her voice. "The rooms on that floor are simpler than most."

"Thanks, Tylia." Theodore smiled and fell back to make room for Scorpius.

"Nice jewelry today." The comment was made with a feather light touch to one of her spider-lace armguards. Tylia merely nodded, and Scorpius dropped his voice. "Theodore does not deserve your coolness, Tylandraes. He has done no damage to you or yours, not like the _Jhondraelaer_ here in _Si Thysaer_. You show none to me and I expect none toward him."

Tylia did not acknowledge him, but only because they had come to the twelfth floor.

"Any room here may be yours, Theodore," Tylia began with a sweeping gesture down the hall. "Save the one with no markings; that one is mine. The 'gifts' I will keep in my own room, assuming that you have no objections. No one would dare take them from _me._"

"Are you implying that your own people would steal from your friend, _Tyrol_?" Saeras inquired with a smile.

"As fond as I am of _you,_ _Tyrol_," Tylia snapped as Theodore began examining the rooms. She saw him flinch at the sudden viciousness of her tone. "_These_ people are not _my_ people. I _have_ no people."

Saeras shrugged--it was the answer that she had come to expect--but Theodore shot Tylia a sad look, which the _Orondralas_ ignored for the moment, though she filed it for further reference.

"This one will be perfect," Theodore commented, gesturing to the one just across from Tylia's. "And feel free, as long as you stick to our deal."

"As if I would renege!" Tylia replied, stepping straight-backed into her room. "Masys, I have a need to speak with you, Your Highness."

Masys came into her room after her and she willed the door to close. She and Masys spent the next three hours--until the early bell was tolled, calling _Si Tys_ to its morning meal--planning a ceremony suitable to present the items that Theodore had brought.

Most of that time, Tylia spent dodging Masys' questions about what _precisely_ was in Theodore's wooden case.

* * *

* * *

1My queen

2Elemental fire does not require two fuels to burn (unlike normal fire, which requires oxygen plus another fuel). It can run on pure oxygen, or without oxygen, as long as it has_ something_ to burn (and it can burn anything, save elemental _water_). Also, burns from elemental fire heal very slowly and hurt very much.


	11. Chapter 10

**Chapter Ten: Debts Paid and Debts Made**

The sun was well up by the time Tylia began to get nervous; her golden light streamed through the little window in Theodore's room.

It was almost time.

Masys had long since gone to make the preparations that Tylia had requested. Tylia smiled at that thought: Masys had always been the most…helpful of her royal cousins.

For the last hour or so, Tylia had been teaching Theodore the finer points of _Jhondraelael_ courtesy. One thing she refused to let happen was to have this bumbling human--charming as he might be--ruin her newest plot.

A clear bell rang, followed by the sound of a flute in a sad, haunting, alluring melody. Tylia smiled again; it could only be Masaelaer. He had always been gifted with music.

"Come, Theodore--and try not to disappoint me."

"I won't." He looked so dignified in the _Aelaeli_1 that Myrdaeraes had brought him, dark blue and smoother than silk. She laughed as he picked up the black trench coat, glanced at it and dropped it again.

"Sorry," he muttered. "Force of habit."

She grinned at him and beckoned. He followed her into the hall, where Petrius materialized out of the half-shadows.

_Morning, two-leggers._ Theodore jumped, which only made the _pa'das_ laugh.

"Does he always do that?" the young man asked.

"Appear out of thin air like that?"

"Yes," replied Theodore, almost sullenly.

_Yes._ Petrius replied smugly.

"Only where there are shadows," Tylia corrected with another laugh. "It is a bit of _pa'das_ magic; when we get to the Underdark, you'll learn why it is so useful."

"I see." Theodore sounded slightly annoyed, but also intrigued as they started down the stairs. "You like startling people, don't you, Petrius?"

_Yes,_ repeated the large cat, only slightly more smug that before.

"That music is beautiful," Theodore commented, changing the subject.

"Yes. It is an old, old song, though Masaelaer manages to make it sound like a summons," Tylia replied, cocking her head. "Any other time and you might hear his sister singing the verses. It is a song about the gods, after all. It is called _Tysaelyl's Jhastael_."

The halfbreed's face was smooth as they reached the bottom of the stairs. All of _Si Tys_ was gathered in Tyraesi's great hall. Tylia caught sight of her other three human 'charges' near Saeras. Korthus was once more perched on Scorpius' shoulder. The royalty were arrayed in the center in white robes as before, though they were decorated with aquamarines rather than sapphires.

Theodore's wooden case was set on a waist-high table some twenty feet or so in front of them, unopened. A crystal that glittered with a red light was placed on top of it. Tylia nodded her approval; it was an alarm crystal, most likely set by Masys, that would shriek if moved by any other.

"Masys." Tylia's voice was cold as she came to stand behind the table. Theodore shivered almost imperceptibly at the change. The _Aelai_ stepped forward, bowed slightly and removed the crystal. It faded swiftly to clear as he returned to a place near Tyraesi's trunk. "I seek permission to address _Si Tys os ei Syral Mestaes_."

"_Si Tys_ recognizes you, _Pelaer_ Tylandraes," the _Col_ replied formally.

"I seek permission also for Theodore Lupin, who stands with me today." This was not a request, however it was phrased.

"No human has ever addressed _Si Tys_ in open session." The _Cel's_ comment was not an objection, merely an observation.

"_This_ human will, _Cel_. And you shall be glad that he did." Tylia almost smirked as Theodore unconsciously straightened at her words.

"_Si Tys_ recognizes Theodore Lupin as well," the _Col_ agreed after a moment.

"It is my honor to stand before you, _Si Tys,_ Majesties, Highnesses," Theodore said with a perfectly proper bow.

"Theodore has recovered three artifacts which have been lost to _Si Thysaer_ for over two thousand years," Tylia began, pitching her voice to sound louder, stronger. "It is by his own choice that he returns them now, with full knowledge of their value both to us and to…others."

"Is this so, _Thol_ Lupin?" the _Volaer_ inquired, curiosity tingeing her face and voice. Most _Jhondraelaer_ were taught from birth that humans were greedy, grasping creatures.

"It is so, Your Highness," Theodore replied with a certain amount of pride.

"Let us see these 'artifacts,' then," the _Col_ said, just a hint of impatience in _his_ voice.

Theodore stepped up to the table and slowly opened the wooden case. From it he pulled a bow made of black wood and inlaid with a silvery wood in the shape of _Jhondraelael_ symbols and _masyrdaes_2. This he passed gently to Tylia, who held it with reverence as _Si Tys_ gasped at the sight.

As the words 'Melaes' bow' and 'Pasaer' Shali3' began to be whispered, Theodore drew forth a quiver made of black-stained leather and inlaid with designs that matched the bow. A second round of whispers followed the quiver's appearance: 'Jhondraedaes4.'

"These things I found together with one other," Theodore began before the shock on the royalty's faces had faded. "The names of these items Tylandraes has provided me. To my understanding, they are a pair, used by a _Tyrn Voli_ at the beginning of the _Aelael_ War. That _Voli,_ Melaes, was killed by a _Pasaer_, and his three items lost to legend. And so it is my honor to return to the _Jhondraelael_ people Pasaer' Shali and Jhondraedaes."

"It is our honor to receive them," murmured the _Cel_. She took the bow and her husband the quiver. "And our pride to have them back in the hands of our people again."

"But you said 'three,'" came Myrdaeraes' voice from the crowd of nobles. He came to stand near the royalty. "And you said 'with one other.' Have you the third?"

"I have, _Meistaraes,_" Theodore replied with a bow. "_Kesaraes_5, please come here."

The _Tyrn Voli_, confused by the use of his 'official title,' stepped forward skeptically.

"Tylandraes has told me much of you, _Kesaraes_," the young human told the black-clothed Elf with a smile. "Your accomplishments impress me a great deal. And so it is to _you_ that I return _Keidylyr_6, Melaes' knife. Do with it what you will."

The shock on the _Jhondraer's_ face would have been comical, if he had not looked so serious. He accepted the long knife with reverence. As soon as it was in his hand, he turned and kneeled before the Volaer and offered it to her. She took it from him with a very strange look on her face.

Tylia was fairly certain that--other than Shondral--she was the only one to understand the full extent of that look. It was one of pain and pity for the forced 'lower status' of her brother.

"Such a weapon is not for the likes of me, _Thol_ Lupin," he murmured, passing back through the royalty to disappear into the crowd.

Theodore nodded--Tylia had told him to expect that. She had also told him to expect the '_Kesaraes_' to be wearing the blade later, furtively. She had _not_, however, told him of Shondral's true position.

"My gifts have been given," Theodore said with a bow. "I expect nothing in return, for I have merely put them back where they should always have been. It was my pleasure and my honor to serve the _Jhondraelaer_ in this way."

_That_ was a key component of any ceremony like this; to have asked for compensation would have been unutterably rude.

"Your gifts were well given and are well received," replied Their Majesties with an equal bow. "We shall reward you as we see fit, since you ask for no reward yourself."

"And first of all, there shall be a feast!" Masys exclaimed, moving forward once again with a clap and a smile.

_Jhondraelaer_ dressed in pale blue began to bring in tables, chairs and pillows as individuals in pale red brought in food.

"Eat and be merry, _Thol_," Masys laughed. "Your gifts are welcome here and so are you! Never shall _Si Thysaer_ turn you away, nor any you bring here."

"You honor me, _V-Aelai_," Theodore replied with a nod, tripping over the _Aer_'s titles.

"And you honor us." Masys glided over to one of the tables, where Eileen appeared out of the crowd of _Si Tys_ and the servers. She gave him a smile and they talked as they gathered food.

Pyra and Scorpius also appeared, coming over to Theodore and Tylia as the human pulled a smaller wooden box--about four inches on each side--out of the larger case before closing the case firmly. Tylia placed an alarm crystal of her own atop it, which quickly filled with a crimson color.

"Quite a little show there, Teddy," Scorpius commented with a smile.

"Thanks, Scorpius, but I'm not done," replied Theodore with a grin.

"_Meistaraes_!" Tylia called above the increased noise of _Si Tys_. Myrdaeraes looked up from the place where he was speaking to his niece and nephew. "Your presence is required, please."

Myrdaeraes nodded and glided around the table that lay between them. Tylia's two cousins followed.

"Yes, _Pelaer_?" Tylia gave no sign of her disgust at the title; if she could call him by title, he could do the same to her.

"_Meistaraes_." Myrdaeraes turned his attention to Theodore. "It is my understanding that, while you and your wife are the heads of Tylandraes' family, you are not the eldest."

"That is so," Myrdaeraes replied slowly. "My mother is eldest."

"Would your mother happen to be here in _Si Thysaer_?" Theodore asked politely. Tylia had told him that Myrdel was often away from the forest, visiting friends among the other _Aelaer_ cultures. It was even true, though the whole truth was that Myrdel was the head of one of Myrdaeraes' elite spy teams, one that associated with the other Magical Peoples.

"Yes. She just returned from a visit with the _Maelael_7 royal court. Why?"

"Because this last of my gifts is for _her_," Theodore explained, lifting the little box to bring it to the _Jhondraer_'s attention.

"Then I shall have Tyraesi tell her that she is wanted," Masys commented, suddenly appearing next to _Peji_ Masaelaer, Eileen just behind. His eyes clouded for a moment, but he smiled as they cleared. "She will be down shortly."

"Thank you, _Aelai_ Masys," Theodore replied with a smile.

"May I ask…?" Myrdaeraes began tentatively, gesturing to the box in Theodore's hands.

"The contents are for _her_ eyes foremost," Theodore replied firmly, with a little shake of his head. A _Aelael_ woman in green appeared suddenly out of the crowd and floated toward the little group.

Her hair, pulled back into an elaborate bun, was the silver of age. Her eyes, deeply green, complimented her dress nicely, which was loose, flowing, and the color of new leaves. Its sleeves were full length and blossomed into long trails at the wrists.

"_Jhadia_8 Myrdel," Tylia said with a bow. The lady nodded regally. "Might I introduce to you my allies? Pyra and Scorpius Malfoy, Eileen Morani and Theodore Lupin? These others you know."

"It is my pleasure to meet you," Myrdel replied in a voice that sounded more like a purr. "I am Myrdel, the eldest of the Sholel family. _You_ are the one that my great-great-grandson allowed to commune with Tyraesi."

That comment was directed at Eileen. She looked Myrdel over, then nodded.

"Yes, _Jhadia_, I am the one," the young human replied with no trace of fear or surprise in her voice or face. "And it was a great honor."

"So it was," Myrdel agreed, her eyes narrowing slightly.

"It is my honor to meet you, Lady Myrdel," the other three humans chorused. Theodore and Scorpius gave Myrdel's title in the _Jhondraelael_ tongue.

"_Jhadia_, I have a gift for you," Theodore continued. Myrdel's eyes flashed with curiosity. "I found this in a little Muggle shop and Tylandraes has told me of its original owner. It is yours, or was once, a long time ago."

He handed his box to the lady, who opened it slowly. Her eyes widened and closed quickly after she caught sight of the contents, and she snapped the box quickly closed again.

"_Shori oli_9, what is wrong?" Saeras asked, placing a hand on her great-grandmother's suddenly shaking arm.

"That is impossible," Myrdel murmured calmly, her eyes still tightly closed. "I lost that long ago. Surely it was destroyed."

"It was not, and I am returning it to you, _Jhadia_," Theodore replied. He reached over and opened the box again, withdrawing something that glittered in the light. "Here. Take it."

Myrdel's eyes flickered open and she passed the wooden box to her son. With gentle fingers and a sad look, she took the glittering object. When she opened it, a clear, tinkling melody played.

"Thank you, Theodore." Myrdel's voice was soft but clear. "This music box was given to me by a very dear friend--a _Pas_ named Ukkor. He made it for me and programmed it to play my favorite song: _Tysaelyl Vaezylol_10_._ I lost it when _Si Thysaer_ was attacked during the War, and never hoped to see it again. I am in your debt."

"That its return brings back memories of your friend and that it makes you smile--" and she _was_ smiling, now, "--makes us even, _Jhadia_."

Myrdel nodded, kissed his cheek and swept away as gracefully and suddenly as she had swept in.

"_Now_ I'm done, Scorp," Theodore informed the younger human with a satisfied smile.

"That was very sweet of you, Theodore," Saeras commented with a smile.

"Speaking of sweet," Theodore replied, switching topics quickly. "Tylia tells me that you sing."

Saeras blushed lightly, glared at her young cousin, and nodded.

"Only if I accompany her, however," Masaelaer added with a smile for his sister.

"Well, that is _perfect_, then," Theodore replied with an even smile. "I wanted to hear a replay of that flute-song from earlier anyway."

"_Tysaelyl's Jhastael_11_?_" The siblings looked at each other with twin grins. "We can do that."

Masaelaer seemed to pull an ornate flute from thin air and played a quick series of notes on it. Much of _Si Tys_ fell silent at the sound, and turned to watch.

"You have to help, Tylia!" Saeras laughed, grabbing her cousin's hand. "Your friends will need a translation!"

Tylia sighed and moved to stand next to the short _Aer_.

"Get on with it, then, Masaelaer," she growled.

He grinned and began a slow, sad tune, the same one that he had used to call _Si Tys_ to the ceremony. His eyes closed and he swayed to the music, adding to its eerie, haunting quality. Saeras' eyes closed, too, and her voice, when it came, was soft and slow and immeasurably sad. Still, there was a note of hope in it.

Tylia's voice joined hers in like manner, though in English. Although the two were singing at the same pace, and their voices intertwined as though dancing, their audience could hear both voices clearly.

"_Eilyl talia ei pae tae tysti eil kai_

_Sai basti mar Ai aelaes cyrn._

_Syl si shol tae shyrn eil si jhaelaer tae thar,_

_Tia jhyli mar shi shor si syl eir._

_Shael tia aer tar syri os tia pandraes paes,_

_Si shys' taes mol mar shaendrol sai saes._

_Sher baelaes tysi thys byrn sor sael_

_Mar tia mol shi jhoraer thys thor eil thael._

_Thys sor sar pae myr shaeraer shi,_

_Air mar shi tia sar sai jhyl thys si._

_Thys os, thys os, thys taelesor_

_Mar ai maes syl aelaer saer._

_Thys si eil thys mi shai syl si thys ti,_

_Sai myrn caes taesia ais air myr shi._

_Shi air byr os thari sai taer eindral eir jhar_

_Ail mysti thas Thysaer ail sar shys var._

_Sher jhaer iar shi vaeloraer 'maer_

_Ail tia cyri caesi shaelaer Caes caer._

_Shaelaer si caer os Tyraesi_

_Mar saesi shi eir jhar 'si eil ti.'_

_Ialor sael Ai mar jhyl thys si_

_Eil thys mi shai syl si thys ti._"

"Although many a day may come and go

Thy name shall I ever know.

Though the winds may blow and the leaves may fall,

My love shall be with thee through all.

When my eyes catch those of my daughter dear,

The world's clear sight will begin to tear.

But never more from now till then

Shall my sight be lifted from field and fen.

For till that day shall blessed be,

It shall be my task to look for thee.

For years, for years, for centuries

Shall I search through endless trees.

For thee and for she who took thee from me;

To show her mercy if it should be.

Be it not our fate to meet again at last

In some far forest in that world past.

But let us be reunited 'stead

In my house here beneath Her head.

Beneath the head of Tyraesi

Shall there be at last 'thee and me.'

Until then I shall look for thee

And for she who took thee from me."

"How sad…"Eileen murmured as the gathered crowd cheered and clapped.

"Who are the people in the song?" Pyra asked as the crowd began to disperse. "The singer, and the one being sought and the other, the 'she who took thee from me?'"

"The singer is Tysaelyl Jhasaerol," Saeras replied as her brother began a quick, spritely tune. "He is our chief god. He seeks his daughter, Aelorae. Aelorae is the goddess of good _Pasaelaer_, of those that wish to return to light and life on the surface of the world. The last is Jhyr, chief goddess of the _Pasaelaer_."

"How did Jhyr take Aelorae from Tysaelyl?" Pyra inquired quickly; her eyes seemed to shine with her interest.

"When the world was young, Tysaelyl and the other deities lived on the earth," Saeras began, closing her eyes to concentrate on the story. "At that time, there was no division between the _Aelael_ families, no _Jhondraelaer_ and _Pasaelaer_, no _Maelaer_12 or _Shydaelaer_13. There were merely _Aelaer_. Likewise, all of the _Aelael_ deities formed one pantheon, and there were no divisions between them. Save one. Her original name14 is lost to all but the great scholars and the gods themselves, but she betrayed her husband, Tysaelyl, and led many of his children, mortal and divine, into the dark ways of hatred and anger.

"For this rebellion, Tysaelyl cast down those deities and disowned those of his mortal children who had followed his treacherous wife. He cursed them with sinister features and gave his wife a new name: Jhyr. Aelorae had no willing part in the rebellion, for she loved her father dearly. However, Jhyr tricked her into distracting Tysaelyl at a critical moment, which allowed Jhyr to poison the Protector and weaken him. Tysaelyl did not blame Aelorae, but she blamed herself. She took upon herself the exile of her mother, swearing that she would not return to her father's pantheon until she could return with all that he had lost."

Pyra looked suitably impressed, but her brother less so; there was a different question on his mind.

"I noticed that Tyraesi was mentioned in the song," Scorpius commented easily. "Could you explain _that_ to me?"

"When the gods graced the earth," Myrdaeraes replied, glancing up into Tyraesi's vaulting chamber. "Tysaelyl was said to have planted a unique tree with dark silver bark and burnished gold leaves. He called her Tyraesi and nurtured her as though she were one of his own children. She grew quickly and strong, and developed of her own accord the ability to communicate with his mortal children. He was delighted and blessed her to live forever and to be a center of the _Aelael_ world."

"That's why you'll never see a temple in _Si Thysaer_," Tylia added. Scorpius glanced at her, curious as to her meaning.

"Tyraesi _is_ our temple, Scorpius," Masys explained with one of his flowering smiles. "Planted, raised, nurtured and blessed by our chief god. We ourselves could create no better than that which he has given us."

"Also," added Masaelaer with a knowing smile. "It is said that when Tysaelyl finally rescues Aelorae from the clutches of Jhyr, they will return to grace the earth again, if only for a night, and that they will dance in the meadow just outside, under Tyraesi's leaves."

* * *

1Elfweave, a special cloth that is, as a rule, worn only by the Jhondraelaer. It is exceptionally light and smooth and holds colors and dyes better than other cloths.

2Starflowers; small, silvery flowers that grow only on the graves of the Jhondraelaer

3Darkness' Bane; a legendary bow that was wielded by a Crown Prince at the beginning of the Elven War. That Prince was killed and Darkness' Bane--as well as Melaes' other two weapons--passed into legend.

4Lightkeeper; the quiver that goes with Pasaer' Sholi. It was lost at the same time as the bow, and along with Melaes' knife.

5Guardmaster

6Gryphontooth; Melaes' long knife, the last of his legendary items

7Sea Elven

8Lady

9Literally 'wise one;' a Jhondraelael title for any family member of a higher generation than 'grandmother' or 'grandfather'

10Tysaelyl Rejoicing

11Tysaelyl's Lament

12Sea Elves

13Wood Elves

14Jhyr's original name is Eiseri.


	12. Chapter 11

**Chapter Eleven: Darkness' Reign**

The week was finally over, and things were bound to get interesting again as soon as they stepped through the portal and into her Uncle's domain. Everything had gotten very quiet after the ceremony and Tylia was _bored._

Everyone was gathered again in Tyraesi's grand chamber. Tylia glanced around, judging the success of the first half of her plot. Her _Jhondraelael_ relatives seemed genuinely sad that her human friends were leaving. Perfect. But saddest of all the group were Mays and Eileen, who seemed to have forged a rather intimate bond.

"Will I see you again?" Eileen murmured, a sorrowful, almost frightened look in her eyes. Masys smiled gently and took her hand in his.

"Dream of me, my _dear_ friend," Masys replied, kissing the hand. Tylia was fairly certain that she was the only one to notice the subtle stress that the _Voli Aelai_ put on the word 'dear.' "Dream of me and I shall be there. You have my word."

Eileen nodded, and pulled slowly away from the _Aer_'s burnished eyes. Pyra and Scorpius materialized out of the crowd. Scorpius stopped short to scrutinize Tylia's newest manner of dress.

For the first time in a week, Tylia was not wearing any black--or any shoes. She _was_ wearing fine _Aelaeli_ in various shades of green. Her breeches were forest green, her tunic emerald and her shirt a pale, delicate green. Both tunic and shirt were sleeveless, as was the current fad in _Si Thysaer_, baring her long arms. On the front of her left shoulder was a silver scar shaped like a stylized hawk--the symbol of the Sholel family; on the back of her right shoulder was a red tattoo in the shape of House Zauval's symbol.

"Oh, are you a _Jhondraer_ today?" snarled a voice in the crowd. Quick as lightning, Tylia slipped into the crush of _Aelaer_ and pulled the speaker forward. It was her cousin, Jhondraes.

To his credit, Jhondraes stood his ground against Tylia's poisonous glare.

"I am _never_ a _Jhondraer_, _e'trit_1," Tylia replied coldly, her voice full of venom and her eyes full of hate. Then she straightened and all negativity left her face, body and voice. "But nor am I ever a _Pasaer_, _Tyrol_. Do not put me into your limited world. It is not _my _world. Mine is far broader."

"_Kalyl_2, go and be silent." Myrdel and Theodore had arrived at last. "You are a fool. Do not allow me to hear of you insulting Tylandraes again."

Jhondraer glared at his grandmother from a moment. Myrdel met his gaze evenly, and it was he that broke away.

"Tylia, deliver these for me? Myrdel added, turning to the _Orondralas_. "I would send Silliv, but they are bound for your destination."

Tylia nodded, accepting the two letters. Silliv was Myrdel's companion _sholol_. Korthus would remain with Myrdaeraes for the next week because Tylia would not force the wind and sun loving hawk into the dark, still tunnels of the Underdark.

"The portal is ready, Your Majesties," came a voice layden with distaste. Tylia turned to see Shondral standing at Tyraesi's doors. The cause of his distaste was instantly apparent.

A vividly red portal was spiraling in the meadow outside. Just in front and to either side stood a _Pasaer_ in the garb of _L'Jallil d'Orbben_ personal guard.

"Let us see off our guests, then," the _Cel_ replied, and _Si Tys_ as a whole moved outside. All the _Jhondraelaer_ save one avoided both portal and the two _Pasaelaer_. Meiryrdaes alone moved apart from the crowd, and Tylia noted that her hands were moving rapidly.

"Dear friends," the _Col_ began, addressing the humans. "Your good faith has been proven to us. You will be ever welcome here. It saddens us to see you go, but know that you shall never be turned away, should you wish to return. The owls that your people keep as companions can find this isle, and you need only seek admission and one of us shall come for you."

"Thank you, Your Majesties," Eileen replied for the group. "To have such a home away from home is more than we could have hoped for."

A third _Pasaer_ stepped through the portal as she finished speaking, a male where the other two were female. He was dressed in grey to their black, though his embroidery was in black. Meiryrdaes backed into the group as he began to speak.

"Greetings to the Forest," he began. His voice had a soft, rough accent. "My name is Vol'axle and I have been sent to escort our guests. May I say that it is my honor to stand in the presence of the Court of a Thousand Summers and, of course, Tyraesi."

He bowed deeply in the great tree's direction.

"You may," the _Col_ agreed stiffly. "They are ready to go."

"Excellent and I thank you," Vol'axle replied cheerfully. "Guests, if you would follow me?"

He turned to go back through the portal.

"Vol." He froze at the sound of Tylia's voice. "_Vel'klar zhah Ilninuk?_3"

"_Fridj pholor l'byr suul, Kaoveh_4, Vol'axle replied in the same tongue. Without looking back, he stepped through, followed by the two others. Tylia's friends looked to her, and she gestured them forward. Petrius vanished into the scarlet light without a second's hesitation. Scorpius followed, then Pyra, then Eileen.

As Pyra passed through, Myrdaeraes appeared. Theodore's wooden case was in one hand, something covered in canvas in the other.

"Thank you, _Meistaraes_," Theodore said as he accepted his case.

"Nice sword," Myrdaeraes replied under his breath. Theodore looked startled, but Tylia just rolled her eyes. He continued at a more normal volume. "Tylia, this is for you."

He unwrapped the other item, revealing a lovely short bow and quiver of pale white wood. It was carved with _Jhondraelael_ symbols stained a pale green. The quiver was the same, its arrows fletched with scintillating feathers.

"Excellent," Tylia breathed, slinging the quiver over her shoulder and taking the bow with gentle fingers. "You made these yourself, _Kalaraes_?"

"Yes," Myrdaeraes replied.

"It is my honor to receive such a precious gift," Tylia murmured with a bow. She ran her fingers down the shaft and along the re-curve that would allow her to keep it strung without using it. "And gryphon feathers for fletching…you are too kind."

"It is my prerogative to spoil my granddaughter," Myrdaeraes retorted with a smile, but his eyes were stern. "And to arm her. Her name is 'Mas ail si Paer5.'"

"Thank you, _Kalaraes_," Tylia replied as she gave him a hug. He handed her a bit of oiled paper with the bow string inside, and she and Theodore turned to the portal.

"_Thol!_" The _Volaer_ stepped up past her parents, her eyes on Theodore. "Might I ask you a question?"

Though her voice was imperious and her eyes suspicious, Theodore replied with grace.

"But of course, Your Highness."

"Where did you come by the 'gifts' you gave us?"

Atleast half of _Si Tys_ looked shocked at the question, and even Theodore bristled at her tone.

"I killed no one to receive them, if that is what you ask," he replied coldly, and marched through the portal without a backward glance.

"How dare you offend him so?" Tylia demanded, her hands clenching on her lovely new bow.

"He's an _archeologist,_ _Tyrol_," came Saeras' voice from behind her. "He found them following his _job_."

Tylia gave another glare to the _Volaer_, hooked the bow shaft onto the quiver and tucked the bowstring into her bag before following Theodore. Just before she stepped through, she closed her eyes. Once on the other side, she opened them again, and her eyes adjusted quickly to the darkness. She could hear ragged breathing and swift whispering.

"Theodore. Pyra. Eileen. Scorpius."

"We're all here, Tylia," Pyra replied in a whisper. "Did Eileen never tell you that she doesn't like the dark?"

"No, I didn't," Eileen commented in a ragged, frightened voice.

"Scorpius, do you have the pendants I gave you?" Tylia asked quickly.

"Of course." Tylia though she heard a coarse laugh from somewhere deeper in the cavern.

"The one made of elf-silver, where is it?"

"Here, just a moment." They heard him fumble with something, and then a pure, silvery light appeared out of his pocket.

The far-off laugh turned into a hateful hiss.

Eileen had risen to her feet as soon as the light appeared and, restored to her more proper self, had heard the hiss.

"There's someone here."

"Of course there is," Tylia retorted gently, her keen eyes probing the darkness beyond the medallion's sphere of light. "And if 'someone' had left a light on, I would not have had to resort to _this._"

That caused another laugh, but it was softer, not so rough or spiteful. A well-dressed _Pasaer_ came into the light, Vol'axle just behind him on his left. He barked an order in Undercommon, and a trio of torches flared at equal distances around the circular cavern, a male _Pasaer _near each.

"Do forgive my men," the _Pasaer_ began in a voice with the same soft, rough accent that Vol'axle had displayed. "They have a wicked sense of humor. Could you please put that away? It makes them nervous. A nervous _Sekevlos_ is dangerous, as I am sure that Drathirdalharil has warned you."

Scorpius slowly put the medal back into his pocket.

"My friends, allow me to introduce Vlosorbb, the Consort of the Lady of Spiders," Tylia drawled; upon introduction, the handsome _Pasaer_ bowed and smiled. "_Ilninuk_6, I am ashamed of you! Allowing your men to scare Eileen like that!"

"Forgive me, _dalninil's dalharil_7. You know the ways of the _Pasaelaer_," Vlosorbb replied with a sorrowful look. "_Jabbress_8 Eileen, I will make it my duty whilst you are here to minimize further frights to you, if that would make up for my misbehavior."

Eileen nodded regally, not quite sure what to make of this charming man.

"Vol'axle we have already met; he is Vlosorbb's personal servant," Tylia continued, pleased with the way her Uncle had reacted to her accusation. "The others are unimportant. Vlosorbb, Vol'axle, these are Eileen Morani, Pyra and Scorpius Malfoy and Theodore Lupin."

"It is our pleasure to have you among us," Vlosorbb replied with another charming smile. "_L'Jallil_ that I serve wishes to meet you; it is best not to keep her waiting."

"_Ush'akal, lor vel'bol Usstan muth velkresa wun nathat resk'afor_!9" crowed a voice from out of a side tunnel.

Vlosorbb crossed the cavern with amazing swiftness and struck the _Pasaer_ that had spoken. The contact cracked sharply.

"When our guests are present, you _will_ speak their language," snarled the _Zil_10.

"Yes, _ush'akal!_" replied the man. "But look at the treat I found lurking."

He snapped a word in Undercommon, and two other _Pasaelaer_ came out of the side tunnel, a person bound and gagged between them.

"You fools." It was amazing how cold Vlosorbb's voice could go. He struck the two away and caught Saeras before she could hit the cavern floor. "They have just come from _L'Taur._"

Pyra started forward as Saeras shook herself awake. Tylia restrained her; she wanted to see what her Uncle would do.

The _Jhondraer_ began to struggle as soon as she saw that she was still in _Pasaelael_ custody. Vlosorbb's eyes were kind and his hands gentle. Vol'axle made the three arms men back away and moved away himself so that it was only Vlosorbb and Saeras. Vlosorbb began speaking softly and Saeras stilled suddenly. He removed her gag first and then untied her hands.

"Thank you," she murmured and he bowed low to her. She moved to stand near Tylia.

"What are you doing here?" the _Orondralas_ hissed.

"Getting away from _Si Tys_ for the first time in my life," Saeras replied easily. "Forgive me for being jealous of you, _Tyrol._ Besides, I'm learning. For one, I never thought I'd have reason to _thank_ a _Pasaer_."

_That_ shut Tylia up. She could not--would not--argue with someone wanting to learn. So she shook her head at her cousin's eccentricity, and turned back to Vlosorbb.

"_Zil_, this is Saeras Sholel, my cousin," Tylia informed him, gesturing to the _Jhondraer_. "Cousin, this is-"

"The Consort of the Lady of Spiders," Saeras interrupted quickly. "That much I heard, before I…lost consciousness."

"If you are my niece's cousin, then you are my relative as well," Vlosorbb said graciously. All three of the arms men who had touched the _Jhondraer_ looked suddenly nervous. "You are welcome here, at least by me. Do not worry: Alakzt, Dureth and Lymeyrr will be punished for treating you in such a manner."

"That will be unnecessary," Saeras replied with dignity.

"Shouldn't we be going?" Pyra asked idly. "You _said_ she was waiting."

"Of course! How foolish of me to get carried away!" Vlosorbb answered, turning so that his cloak flared, revealing his sword. Scorpius stared at it: It was perfectly straight. "Please, follow me!"

Vlosorbb, followed closely by Vol'axle, started down a wide tunnel.

"You three next," Saeras ordered coldly, eying the three who had laid hands on her. "I do not trust you at my back."

"I do not have to listen to you, _dos hawrest aterruce_11," snarled the _Pasaer_ who Vlosorbb had struck first.

"Yes, you do." The _Zil_'s voice floated back to them. The trio snarled, but went ahead. Saeras followed, with Tylia and the humans close behind. The three torchbearers spaced themselves along the group.

"Did you know that your Uncle speaks the _Jhondraelael_ tongue?" Saeras inquired, falling into step next to Tylia.

"Is that how he got you to calm down?" Saeras nodded. "Yes, I knew; I'm the one that taught him to speak it."

"It startled me," Saeras admitted. "As did the fact that his eyes are not red!"

"I thought all _Pasaelaer_ had scarlet eyes," Scorpius objected, easily sliding into the conversation.

"So did I," Saeras retorted. "But _his_ eyes are pale lavender. Like the blossoms that grace Tyraesi's meado in spring."

"It is rare that a _Pasaer_ be born without the typical red pigment," Tylia admitted. "Of the variant colors, orange and lavender are both the most common and the most accepted."

"Of the other three colors," Vol'axle added, appearing as though out of nowhere, his eyes cast down. "Green is the rarest and least accepted. Those with green eyes are considered 'light-touched,' since that is the most common color of eye for the _Jhondraelaer_. Most often they are killed at birth, though one will occasionally find a wealthy or influential patron and survive."

"You would know, wouldn't you, Vol?" Tylia drawled, smacking the _Pasaer_ gently on the shoulder. He glanced up and grinned, torchlight glinting in the depths of his pale green eyes as he faded back into the shadows.

Theodore laughed as he noticed the color.

"What are the other two colors, then?" the archeologist inquired genially.

_Blue, almost as hated as green,_ came the voice of a _pa'das_, soft and deadly. It had the same sharpness as the striking of two blades upon each other. _And amber, which is actually a rather popular color._

All the humans save Theodore jumped, as did Saeras. This only elicited a soft, cold laugh.

"Don't you know it's rude not to introduce yourself?" Theodore asked the surrounding shadows.

_My name is Lerien, and my Bond is Vol'axle._ The _pa'das_, slightly smaller than Petrius, materialized next to Theodore, and her long tail flicked his hand. _You have guts, human. I like you._

She glanced up at him and he laughed again; her eyes matched Vol'axle's perfectly. She melted seamlessly back into the shadows.

"Speaking of cat-friends," Eileen began thoughtfully, "where is Petrius?

"Curled up at the Lady's feet, I'm sure," Tylia replied wryly. He has a crush on _Her_ Bond. Luckily, such feelings in him require me to like neither the Lady nor Her cat."

Pyra chuckled, but the laugh gave way to a gasp of awe that was mirrored by all five of the first-timers.

On the floor of a massive cavern a hundred or more meters below them (and they were atleast that far from the ceiling) sprawled a beautiful city carved and constructed completely of a shimmering black rock. In the precise center of the cavern rose a stalagmite that was met midway by a stalactite. At the base and roof of the cavern, the column was as wide as Tyraesi herself. By the time the two met, they were a mere hundred feet in diameter. the entire hourglass-shape glittered with firelight through many windows.

* * *

1filth

2Grandson

3Where is Uncle?

4Just on the other side, Cousin

5Star in the Deeps

6Uncle

7Niece

8Mistress

9Sir, look what I found hiding in a hole!

10Consort

11You insolent creature


	13. Chapter 12

Chapter Twelve

Snipers and The Lady

"Welcome, guests, to my home," Vlosorbb called from where he was standing near a staircase carved out of the side of the cavern. He gestured toward the city and smiled. "This is Her own city, Baltana'stramtor."

He started down the wide staircase and everyone followed it in the same order as before.

"'Her?'" Scorpius asked quietly, his eyes still on the city. "The Lady?"

"No," Tylia replied, shaking her head. "Jhyr."

"_What_?" Saeras cried out, but she kept herself quiet. "This is _that_ city?"

"Yes. This is the cavern to which Jhyr long ago lead Her mortal followers after their fall from Tysaelyl's grace. This is _the_ original _Pasaelael_ city."

"Wow." All of the visitors echoed that statement.

Moments later, they were amid the bustle and noise that they had seen from so far above. Tylia pulled Saeras into the center of their group and the torchbearers traded their torches in favor of swords. Six other males (both _Pasaelael_ and human) came forward, swords drawn, to circle Vlosorbb's following of visitors.

The four human guards bore many scars and a single tattoo on their left shoulders that glowed a brilliant red; slave marks.

"This city is a dangerous place," Vol'axle commented, slipping easily between the guards. "Especially for visitors. Especially for _you, __Kaoveh_."

He glanced, not at Tylia, but at Saeras. She watched him rejoin Vlosorbb before she turned indignantly.

"What did he just call me?" she demanded. Tylia laughed.

"Nothing rude, Saeras," the Orondralas assured her friend. "He only called you 'cousin.'"

"Is he your Uncle's son, then?" Saeras inquired uneasily.

"No. Well, yes, I suppose." Tylia shook her head and laughed again at the confused look on Saeras' face. "'No' because a male in Pasaelael culture has no claim to offspring, as well as because they have no blood relation. 'Yes' because Uncle adopted him when Vol'axle was very young. He calls me cousin, too."

"_**E'trit! Vlos'darthiir! Kitrye'kyuvr**__**!**_"1 Three curses were hurled out of the crowd, and the next moment Tylia heard the distinctive hiss of blow-darts.

One of the slaves leapt in front of Saeras and fell quickly. One of the guards, with a raised scar on his face, lifted his right arm, sword and all. A silver-blue light flowered there and cascaded into a shield around the visitors, Tylia and the fallen slave.

The entire group, Vlosorbb and Vol'axle included, had stopped. Saeras knelt next to the slave. He had a foot-long shaft thrusting out of his chest, just below his sternum. Saeras reached to remove it, but the slave quickly put up his hand.

"Do not, my lady," he rasped as Vlosorbb's pale scarlet magic lashed out against the dart-snipers. "It is poisoned."

"Is there nothing anyone can do?" Saeras asked quietly.

"No," Tylia replied as the slave shook his head weakly. She examined the dart in his chest and her ashy skin paled slightly. "He's dead already."

She touched his forehead in a _Jhondraelael_ blessing and stood to speak with the mage who was shielding them.

"Thank you for your kindness, my lady," the slave added, wiping her tears with a gentle hand. "That it was _you_ I saved and not one of these black-skinned devils eases my heart. The Lady of Ash has told me much of your people."

He gestured toward Tylia, who didn't see.

"Do you have a name?" the _Aer_ asked, her voice trembling as she smoothed his long hair back from his face with one hand while holding his lifted hand in the other.

He glanced at the mage-guard, who was distracted by Tylia and his magic. The slave nodded.

"It is Kaleb, my lady."

"I will remember, I promise," she murmured.

"Let's go, visitors," called the mage-guard, his voice rough. "All is quiet for now. Leave _that._"

Tylia pulled Saeras away from Kaleb's body as Vlosorbb came to the center of the circle of guards. He called to two of the human slaves. They knelt in front of him as the visitors passed by.

"Take him, bury him," he instructed them. "You were all from the same culture; bury him in the traditions of that place. Burn his mark from him. He died a free man. When you are finished with that, bring me his wife and child."

"He had a _child_?" Saeras gasped. Vlosorbb nodded and pulled gently on her arm.

"And they shall be rewarded for his sacrifice," Vlosorbb agreed readily.

"How?" Eileen asked quietly, her calm voice almost swept away by the tide of the market that they had entered.

"They shall be freed and returned to the surface," Vlosorbb explained as they reached the base of the massive column. "They shall be given all the money they will ever need for a good life there, and the protection that only a _Sekevlos_ can give them."

Tylia nodded with satisfaction as they passed through an ornate gate set with gemstone images. Most were spiders of ruby and black diamond.

"Come, we have no time for stairs and tunnels today," the _Zil_ continued, hurrying down a plush hallway.

A pair of double doors stood at the end. They were deeply etched with an image of a woman, her eyes set with rubies, her hair of silver and her skin of deep, blue-black sapphires. She bowed to another _Pasaelael_ woman of similar make, save that the second wore a crown of a black metal wet with an amethyst spider set into the center.

"Jhyr and the Lady," Tylia explained as her friends admired the mural for a moment. "The _original_ Lady, not this current one. They usually don't last more than twenty human years or so."

"Now, listen to me, friends." Vlosorbb turned in front of the doors, gesturing the guards away. Once they were out of earshot, he continued. "Guests or no, She is still the Lady of Spiders. If She takes offense at something you do or say, She can and probably will have you killed. There will be nothing I can do about it. Be careful, and be polite."

He pulled the doors open and gestured them through. He followed, and Vol'axle and Lerien came last, pulling the doors closed behind. A faint glow lit the room for a moment, faded, and reappeared. Vol'axle pushed the doors open once more, but now they led somewhere else.

A lovely room spread out before them. Its floors were covered in plush carpets and there were richly hued tapestries on the walls on the walls. Piles of cushions, as well as couches, lined a black and scarlet velvet carpet that led from the doors to a pair of thrones, one set above the other.

On the cushions were four male Pasaelaer, all bearing a pulsing red symbol that marked them as slaves. On two of the couches were seated female Pasaelaer dressed in black leather and bearing whips. None of them looked up as the visitors entered.

Vlosorbb beckoned, and they followed. When they were halfway across the room, a black metal door opened behind the higher throne, and a Pasaer woman stepped out. Vlosorbb immediately froze, then knelt. The others quickly followed suit.

"Come forward, _ussta zil_2,and bring your tag-a-longs." The Lady's voice was as soft as silk, though there was a derisive amusement there.

When they reached her, she was lounging on the higher throne, her black silk ribbed with silver swirls that matched her hair.

"_Farjali Jallil,_3 may I present our guests?"

"Of course, Vlosorbb." Tylia knew that none of her friends would understand the significance of the fact that the Lady had referred to a _male_ by name.

Two _pa'das_ appeared through a doorway, one with deeply green eyes and one with eyes of amber.

_Morning, Pet,_ Tylia called.

_Good morning, Tylandraes_, replied Petrius. He and his companion seated themselves on either side of the Lady's throne.

"Drathirdalharil, of course, you know."

"Of course." The Lady's voice held no accent, unlike the other _Pasaelaer_ they had yet met. "Such a pleasure you have you back among us, Drathirdalharil."

"A pleasure to be back, _Jallil_4_,_" Tylia replied with a polite bow. She did, however, meet the Lady's amber eyes. They were filled with cruel amusement.

"I also present Eileen Morani, Pyra Malfoy, Scorpius Malfoy and Theodore Lupin." As each name was called, the humans stepped forward once, bowed and then stepped back. Only Pyra and Theodore met the Lady's eyes.

"What is that _filth_ doing in my presence?" The sudden change in the Lady's voice was startling: before it had been as smooth as the silk she wore, but now it was as rough as sandpaper and as sharp as a sword point. The Lady sat bolt upright and her _pa'das_ leapt from her seat to circle Saeras. The two whip-bearing priestesses also rose, though the slaves did not.

Saeras met the feline's unnerving golden stare and then the scarlet eyes of both priestesses, who glared at her daring. Finally, she looked up at the Lady and replied:

"_Screa'in, Jallil._"5

Vlosorbb looked nervous, as did Vol'axle, but the Lady motioned for her two underlings to resume their seats and relaxed slightly herself. Her _pa'das_ twitched her tail at Saeras and went back up to sit beside Petrius.

"You have courage, _Tonaikvlos_," she commented, the silkiness back in her voice without the loss of the edge.

"So I have been told, Lady," Saeras agreed casually. "But I would thank you not to call me that; it is rude. I use no such term for you or yours."

"What would you have me call you, then?" the Lady asked, amused again.

"Saeras, as that is my name," the _Jhondraer_ replied, shrugging her shoulders. "Or 'Duchess,' as that is my title."

"'Duchess,' then." Tylia marveled at that; to call a _Jhondraer_ by rank was almost to admit that they might be an equal. "Well, Duchess, know that you are the first _Tona_—of your kind to set foot in this room, particularly under your own power. Feel blessed that Lolth6 has given you this opportunity."

"I am blessed, Lady," Saeras replied blandly. The Lady gave her a searching look, but did not comment.

_She says to tell you that the rest of her comment was 'but not by _your_ goddess!', _Petrius added wryly. Tylia had to fight to hid her smile.

"Be careful in the city, Duchess," the Lady continued. "There are many that might wish to curry my favor by bringing me such a sacrifice."

"I know, and I will," Saeras agreed, her face tightening. "One of your—"_Consort,_ Petrius supplied helpfully "—Consort's slaves has already given his life for my being here."

"You lost a slave, Vlosorbb?" The Lady asked, surprised.

"Yes, _Farjali Jallil,_" Vlosorbb replied, looking relieved at the way the situation had resolved itself. "One of my best, to a poisoned dart."

"And the fletching?"

"Of House Do'Urden, _Farjali Jallil_," Vlosorbb replied dutifully. Vol'axle stiffened slightly.

"That House no longer exists in this city, _ussta zil_," the Lady commented, a warning clear in her voice.

"Of this I am aware, _Farjali Jallil_," Vlosorbb agreed readily, bowing slightly. "Yet the design was unmistakable."

"If _I_ may speak?" Tylia asked with a bow.

"You may," granted the Lady.

"The design _was_ unmistakable," the halfbreed agreed. "But not in the way that my _ilninuk_ believes."

"Explain, Drathirdalharil."

"I have learned much of _Sekevlos_ culture," Tylia continued slowly. "And am still learning, both from you and my uncle, my mother and also from my family in _L'Taur_. The design on the dart was similar to that of the extinct House Do'Urden, but not the same."

"Then to which House did it belong?" the Lady asked with feigned patience.

"None." The Lady glared at Tylia, who smiled innocently. "It belonged to the _Serdyr_, called here the _Trantzvlos_."

"_X'sau_." Tylia hid a smile; the Lady was having as many problems with the _Trantzvlos_ as the _Jhondraelaer_ were. "You are certain?"

"I am, Lady," Tylia replied instantly. "A dart of similar make and identical design killed one of my cousins recently."

"I had heard of the death of one of the Princess' ladies," the _Pasaer_ murmured. "A certain member of the Court sent me notice."

"Speaking of news from the Court," Tylia added, filing the Lady's comment for future review as she rummaged quickly through her bag and extracted one of the letter that Myrdel had given her. The second was for Vlosorbb and the third Tylia had not checked yet. "This is for you, _Jallil._"

The envelope, like all official letters out of _Si Thysaer_, was made of one of Tyraesi's fallen leaves. The Lady's titles and name were written in lavender ink. Tylia offered it to the Lady, who looked scornfully at it. One of the seated slaves rose to take it, and then vanished through a door to the side.

"So, what now?" Tylia asked with an innocent smile.

"Now you may be at your ease," the Lady replied. Tylia coughed to hide her chuckle. 'At her ease?' In the _Underdark?_ "My handsome can escort you around the city if you wish, or you may rest. Are your friends yet weary?"

"We would like to see the city, _Jallil_," Theodore replied, and Tylia smiled. He was a quick study and his accent would be flawless. "If it would please you to have it seen by us."

The Lady smiled sharply at him.

"It _would_ please me," she replied in a silky purr. Tylia stiffened reflexively, then forced herself to relax. She did not like the way the Lady was looking at her friend. "But there are arrangements to be made, first. Micarffyn!"

One of the priestesses rose and bowed to her.

"You and your squad will go with them," the Lady commanded, much to the priestess' obvious displeasure. "You will guard our guests as you would guard _me._ Am I understood?"

"Of course, _Jallil d'Orbben_," Micarffyn replied, glaring at the guests.

"Do not disappoint me, Micarffyn," the Lady warned. "Go, meet them at the palace door."

She swept out of the room and two of the remaining slaves rose and followed.

"She and her squad are my best," the Lady informed her guests. "They will guard you well."

"Except for me." Saeras' voice was cold, even flat.

"She will guard you or she will spend the rest of her days weaponless in a drider7 nest," the Lady growled, her amber eyes glittering fiercely.

"Come, guests," Vlosorbb commanded, gesturing them back toward the door with a bow for his Lady. "Your tour awaits you."

"Tylia?"

"Yes, Theodore?"

"What's a 'drider?'"

* * *

1 Filth! Blood traitors! Halfbreed!

2 My Consort

3 Precious Lady; the way that Vlosorbb refers the Lady in her hearing

4 Lady

5 Learning, Lady

6 Chief _Pasaelael_ goddess; goddess of darkness and treachery

7 Driders are half-Pasaer, half enormous spider. Like a centaur, only spider instead of horse. Extremely unpleasant and they are _created,_ not bred. It is said that only the gods themselves have the ability to make such freaks of nature, though a few mad mages have attempted it with little effect. Rumor of young driders are as yet unfounded, and disturb the Pasaelaer more than they would ever admit. They will pay a handsome amount to anyone who can prove (or utterly disprove) the rumors.


	14. Chapter 13

Chapter Thirteen

The Perils of Darkness

"Would you like to finish your tour now, my friends?"

Vlosorbb was awake and cheerful after only a few hours sleep, as was Tylia. Her friends were amusingly sleepy. He was dressed the same way as the day before and a _pa'das_ with lavender eyes sat by his feet in the common area where the guests were eating.

"Uncle, where's Vol?" Tylia inquired idly. Vlosorbb shrugged.

"He said that he would meet us in the city," the Consort replied, smiling at Pyra as she gagged on something that looked like steak. "Dragon meat, _Jabbress_ Pyra. _Deep_ dragon meat. An acquired taste, or so I am told."

Pyra smiled weakly and gestured to his companion.

"Who's your friend?"

_My name is Denaskravital_, the _pa'das_ replied in a gravelly voice. _You may call me Denask._

"Nice to meet you, Denask," the humans chorused.

After a moment, Denask rose-he was larger than Petrius, fully grown-and wound his way through the guests until he found Tylia and Saeras.

"Good morning, Den," Tylia said with a smile. He eyed her lazily, then reared to place his paws gently on Saeras' shoulders.

The _Jhondraer_did not pull away, though she sagged a little under the force of those massive paws.

"Good morning, Master Denask," she said politely.

_I am not 'Master' here,_ Denask refuted, tilting his head at her curiously. _My Bond tells me that you are a danger to the others._

"Denaskravital!" Vlosorbb cried, horrified at his _pa'das'_ bluntness. He could at least have spoken only to Saeras and not broadcast the comment.

"He's right, I'm afraid, Denask," Saeras admitted. "I shouldn't have come."

_There are those here that welcome you,_ the large feline commented in an off-hand manner, then continued along the vein he had started. _My Bond has made it clear that you need more watching than the others, for your protection and theirs. For as long as you are here, it shall be as though **you** are my Bond. Does this bother you?_

"N-no." Saeras blinked at him for a moment, then looked over at Vlosorbb. "It's very flattering. But won't it bother _you_, sir?"

"Please do not 'sir' me," Vlosorbb replied with a soft smile. "We are family. And no, it won't. He often wanders on his own."

Denask pulled off of Saeras, careful not to push down on her as he did, and thudded onto the carpeted stone floor. He sat regally next to Saeras' feet.

"_Zil_." Vlosorbb turned to Scorpius, who was eying a steaming soup suspiciously. It was pale blue. "What is this?"

"Spider's milk soup," the Consort replied with a sly grin.

"'_Spider's_ milk?'" Scorpius repeated, incredulous.

"That is what it is _called_," Vlosorbb admitted. "But it isn't really. Though it looks that way. It's very good. You should try some."

"No, thank you," Scorpius replied, turning instead to some slightly violet, partially translucent eggs. Tylia hid a grin; those were eggs from the enormous spiders that were kept in one of the lower levels of the palace.

"It really is quite good, Scor," Theodore replied. He and Eileen each had a bowl.

_Now._ Tylia sighed contentedly. _The only odd thing about this scene is that they all look like sun-bleached Pasaelaer_.

_They do, don't they?_ Petrius agreed, ambling out of the shadows to cock his head at her friends.

They were all dressed in black leather or linen, save Eileen, who had insisted on silver. Only Theodore's dress looked remotely human, and that was mostly because he had opted for his trench coat instead of the cloaks that the others wore.

_Coming with us today?_ Tylia inquired teasingly, knowing full well that he had no such intentions.

_No. You won't see me again until the sacrifice._ Tylia stiffened and Petrius sighed as he melted back into the shadows. _Surely you didn't forget. You have to participate, remember?_

"About that tour," Eileen suggested as everyone finished eating. "I for one would like to see the rest of the city."

Everyone nodded and left the refuse of their meal on the tables. It had been made quite clear to them the night before that there was a contingent of slaves assigned to clean up after them. Any slave caught with no work to do-because some helpful young human had cleaned up after herself, for example-was whipped.

"Truth to tell, there isn't that much more worth seeing," Vlosorbb admitted. "You've seen the palace, the temples, even most of the monuments. Has my niece told you of anything that you wish to see?"

"I would like to see the Slave Market." Eileen's voice was soft, but firm.

Vlosorbb's lavender eyes went wide. He smiled one of his charming smiles, but it seemed a little shaky.

"Do you remember that I promised that I would try to keep you from being further frightened or upset during your stay?" Eileen nodded. "I would be remiss in that promise if I took you to the Market."

"I would bear it," Eileen replied in that same velvet-over-steel voice. "I wish to see the Slave Market."

Vlosorbb glanced at Tylia as though asking for her help. She merely shrugged.

"It is as much a part of this culture as anything else, _Ilninuk_. If that's what she wants to see," the hybrid replied with a sigh. Even when she was acting like one of her mother's people, it was hard for her to bear the Market.

"_You_ put this idea into her head," Vlosorbb accused.

"No." Tylia shook her head sharply. "You know how much I hate that place, _Ilninuk_! Actually, I think Tyraesi did."

Eileen nodded slowly.

"_Waele unbuwunin inth lorug_,1" the _Zil_ muttered under his breath. "Very well. We will go to the Market."

He swept out of the common area, still cursing in Undercommon under his breath. The visitors followed, Denask stalking the shadows near Saeras.

Vlosorbb's contingent streamed out of open doors as they followed him down the hall. The man at arms, Alakzt, who had ordered Saeras bound was not there, but a new _Pasaer_ had taken his place.

Kaleb, too, had been replaced, bringing their number back to twelve: the three torch-bearers from the cavern, Dureth and Lymeyrr, Alakzt's subordinates, four human slaves and two other Pasaelael guards.

They exited through a side door. The visitors stopped suddenly, though Tylia and Vlosorbb continued a moment more.

Fourteen _pa'das_ sat, still as statues just outside the door. Eight of them stood and stretched as Vlosorbb's guards passed them, and they followed the men into the shadows and the crowd. A moment later, the other six stood and turned, flicking their tails in unison at the visitors as if dismissing them. Micarffyn stepped out of the shadows, a new priestess and their four slaves hovering behind.

"Are you coming?" Vlosorbb inquired of his guests a little sharply. The visitors started walking again.

"We're just not used to seeing so many _pa'das_ in one place," Scorpius replied for the group.

"Wait until this afternoon," Vlosorbb returned, threading his way through the crowded streets of the Temple District. His guards formed a wedge behind him so that the passerby couldn't get near the visitors. The priestesses and their slaves closed off the rear.

"What happens this afternoon?" Teddy asked Tylia.

"A sacrifice to Jhyr," Tylia replied, disgust filling her voice. "A _Sholyli_2 caught in one of Jhyr's sacred tunnels."

"They're going to _kill_ this Elf?" Pyra demanded as the crowd in the street thinned out dramatically. Eileen glowered.

"Of course," Tylia replied, sighing. "Only blood sacrifices are acceptable to Jhyr-ack!"

A slim, deeply blue arm slid around her throat, cutting off her air. Another held a knife to her ribs.

"Vlosorbb!" Theodore thundered, glaring at the priestess that held his friend.

"Refer to my goddess in your filthy language again," she suggested in a breezy voice. "And no amount of leverage that your _precious uncle_ has with _L'Jallil d'Orbben_ will save you from my knife."

"Elvanvyll, let her go," Vlosorbb advised, having come back at Theodore's shout. He sighed when the priestess did not loosen her death hold. "Drathirdalharil, why do you allow her to do this to you? You know the rules of our culture."

Tylia grinned that feral grin and promptly flipped Elvanvyll over her shoulder. The priestess was so startled that she foolishly allowed Tylia to slip the knife out of her hand.

The hybrid pinned the priestess and allowed the tip of the curved dagger to rest in the hallow of Elvanvyll's throat.

"Do not." Micarffyn's voice lashed out, sharp and fast as a whip, but it wasn't directed at Tylia. Elvanvyll's two slaves had started forward to help their mistress.

"Now. Stop struggling, or you'll get hurt." Indeed, there were already a couple of light scratches on Elvanvyll's throat. She stilled, sensing weakness in what Tylia had said. "By all the rights and laws of your people, I should kill you. But I won't. Would you like to know why?"

Elvanvyll nodded slowly.

"Because the deity that _I_ follow forbids unnecessary bloodshed," Tylia replied, then her eyes narrowed. "That does not mean that I _cannot_ kill. Just that if I went around killing every _Jhyr_ worshipping fool in the Underdark, her rivers would run red into the light and my life would be wasted."

She rose and let Elvanvyll get up. She did not, however, return the knife.

"I warned you, you filth!" Elvanvyll snarled, snapping her whip out so that it wrapped around Tylia's neck. Tylia turned and hurled the stolen knife. It buried itself to the hilt in Elvanvyll's throat.

Elvanvyll dropped where she stood and Tylia yanked the whip from around her neck. She wound it slowly, not looking at her friends, who were gaping at her. She pulled the knife from Elvanvyll's body and cleaned it, then found and took the sheath, as well as the two other daggers on her person, and two of her three necklaces. The third was a medallion bearing Jhyr's mark.

One of the necklaces she pocketed. The other was _renor plak'la_3, carved with a _Pasaelael_ rune. She touched it to her forehead and the rune changed. Now it was similar to House Zauval's symbol, with only a slight difference.

She touched the medallion to the runes on each of Elvanvyll's slaves-runes that matched the one that was originally on the _renor plak'la_ pendant. They flared a brilliant scarlet, then faded, now resembling the _new_ rune on the medallion.

"Your old mistress is dead," Tylia told them quietly. "I am your mistress now. You bear my mark and will follow my orders. Do you understand?"

The slaves bowed in response, and did not meet her eyes.

"Good. What are you called?"

"Maelthra'dalhar, Drathirdalharil'rothe4," replied the taller of the two.

"Lanke'chath, Drathirdalharil'rothe," replied the other.

"Lanke'chath, take the body to her family. Be polite, even if they are not; they have lost a child. When you have finished with that, report to my room in the palace and remain there until I come or send for you. You may leave to eat or relieve yourself." Lanke'chath nodded and picked Elvanvyll up gently before bowing and departing.

"Micarffyn, will you require another of your squad?" Tylia inquired politely.

"I think not." The priestess' voice was clipped and cold.

"Maelthra'dalhar, take these things to my room in the palace," she told the other slave, handing him the three knives. "I give you the same conditions as those I placed on Lanke'chath."

He bowed and scurried off.

"It is not for me to carry this," the hybrid continued, offering the coiled whip to Micarffyn. The priestess took it and, in a flare of pale gray light, it vanished. "I am no priestess of Jhyr."

"The _Darthirii_ god does not forbid bloodshed. He is a warrior," Micarffyn commented, softening her stance a little. One corner of her lip twitched in a hint of a wry smile. "Almost admirable, even by our standards."

"Who told you that I worship Tysaelyl?" Tylia asked curiously, and Micarffyn did a double take.

"Who then do you worship?" the priestess asked. "I know that you do not worship Lolth."

"You may call her Steelheart, for any other name spoken by you she would take as blasphemy, even if I would not," Tylia replied, almost sadly. "She is a goddess of war, of law and of grief. Above all else, she despises unnecessary loss of life."

"You realize that you may have just started a House War, do you not?" Micarffyn inquired quietly. Only Theodore and Eileen heard her. Eileen thought that the question sounded almost like a threat; to Theodore, it sounded more like a warning.

"Such are the hazards of the Underdark, Priestess," Tylia replied with a shrug. "Shall we continue?"

Micarffyn nodded and the group moved forward again. A brush of velvet fur on her bare arm made Tylia look down into the scarlet eyes of a _pa'das_.

_She was my Bond._ The feline's voice sounded like glass needles. _You have killed her._

_I-I am sorry for your loss, micamer_, Tylia replied with a little bow, wondering if there was a threat in that almost-painful mind-voice.

_I thank you for my freedom,_ she replied, eyes blazing. _Now I shall be one of those free in the tunnels and driders shall be my prey and I shall be as I should always have been. Telkai thanks you._

_You're welcome, Telkai_, Tylia called as the feline vanished into the shadows.

* * *

1 Stupid meddling sentient tree

2 Literally 'Wild One' the term that Jhondraelaer use to refer to their wild cousins

3 'black gold,' an alloy engineered by the Pasaelaer. It is a magical mixture of gold and iron. Black-gold has many unique properties which include being harder than ordinary iron and more malleable-for certain people-than ordinary gold.

4 This indicates that the speaker is the slave of whoever's name comes before the word 'slave' (_rothe_). In this case, Tylandraes.


	15. Chapter 14

Chapter Fourteen

Slave Market

"Tylia?" Scorpius sounded hesitant. Tylia smiled at him.

"Yes?"

"Those men-they're yours now." He did not ask it.

"Yes." She sighed. "All of Elvanvyll's slaves are mine, now."

"What will you do with them?" Pyra asked quietly. "You aren't here often enough to put them to use. Are you?"

"I shall likely give most of them to Uncle," Tylia mused, shaking her head to answer Pyra's second question. "Although, those two, I think, will go to Vol'axle."

Eileen looked as though she was going to say something cross, but just then an eerie music wound its way though the again-bustling streets to find them. Tylia looked up, her eyes shining, and she sang a quiet counterpart to the music under her breath.

"_Doer jal nindyn nindel ruebuss Ilta dosst dron;"_

"_Come all those that owe Her your lives;"_

"_Jal nindyn nindel inbal dro'us vel'klar byrren inbal tois."_

"_All those that have lived where others have died."_

"What is _that_?" Theodore asked quietly, so as not to disturb the music. Their phalanx of guards drew closer to them.

"_Harl'il'cik a Ilta orlenggin, belbau g'rftte lu'tlu o'goth."_

"_Kneel at Her altar, give thanks and be heal(ed)."_

"_Nindyn nindel kyorl ssussun wun l'oloth harl,"_

"_Those that see light in the darkness below,"_

"That, my human friend," Vlosorbb began with the slightest hint of a smile on his face, "is the sound of traitors to Lolth. They worship another, a goddess that would lead us from our home and back into the light; Eilistraee, Lolth's daughter by the _darthirii_ god."

"_Zhal dro 'sohna wun l'tresk'ri phor;"_

"_Shall live again in the world above;"_

"_Duul'sso ulu iala lu'ulu ssinssrigg, ulu sundu lu'ulu kyorl,"_

"_Free to laugh and to love, to sing and to see,"_

"_Zil_, may I go?" Micarffyn inquired, and Tylia knew that it burned her to ask anything of a _male,_ even this one. "Let me catch them, who insult my goddess so!"

"You were told to guard our guests, Micarffyn," Vlosorbb replied coldly. "If you cannot defend our faith _and_ our guests, then perhaps you should summon Iymzyne to take your place."

Micarffyn flattened at the hint that she was incompetent, her eyes burning. She snapped at one of her slaves and he ran, fear in his eyes.

"Come, friends, we are almost there." Vlosorbb led them around a corner, and a babble of _Pasaelael_ tongues smashed into their ears.

The eerie music continued as Vlosorbb led them into the Slave Market.

"_L'ssussun pholor nind jindurnen lu'nind rahi pholor l'lorugen."_

"_The light on their faces and their hands on the trees."_

"_Nindolen klexn Il uriu iglata lu'nindolen klezn gaer zhal tlu,"_

"_These things She has promis(ed) and these things there shall be,"_

Stalls were set in a great arch against a black stone wall. _Pasaelaer_ of every description manned them while costumers milled in the vast open space. A blazing silver globe hung unsupported in the air, casting moonlike shadows. The merchandise-in this case, slaves of almost every race and breed-stood in cages or shackles.

Tylia glanced around and shuddered. The only two things that she _liked_ about the Market were that it was easy to avoid and that none of the _Aelael_ peoples save the uncommon _Pasaer_ was ever found there.

Almost at once, their thirteen guards dispersed into the crowd. Tylia knew that they were still there, but their sudden 'disappearance' made the humans nervous. Denask's tail was wrapped around Saeras' wrist, and that seemed to keep her calm.

Most of the costumers (and the stall-managers) greeted Vlosorbb with respect and glared at the guests. Tylia and Saeras glared back.

As they rounded the end of the arch, the slaves stiffened and froze. A moment later, the visitors did, too. The costumers and stall keepers continued as though nothing was happening. Screams, shrill and high, rose over the noise of the Market.

Micarffyn grinned with fierce, feral pleasure.

"They have been captured!" she crowed, glaring at Vlosorbb.

"I am as glad as any other," Vlosorbb replied coolly. Micarffyn gave him a look that said clearly that she doubted his words. "_Jabbress_ Eileen, we should go."

"I am not finished, please," Eileen replied with a coolness that rivaled the Consort's.

"Very well." Vlosorbb sighed and continued around the arch.

"_Zil! Zil!_" called a raspy voice as the screams stopped and the slaves relaxed.

"Ah! Dirzagh! I have not seen you in many days!" Vlosorbb clasped hands with a handsome male _Pasaer_.

"Such company you are keeping these days, _Zil_," Dirzagh muttered in an undertone. Vlosorbb glared at him and he smiled pleasingly. "I hear you lost a slave yesterday. Might I entice you to replace it?"

"News travels quickly, as always," Vlosorbb drawled carelessly. "I _might_ need a new slave, but it would have to be an exceptional one."

"As though I would sell less than the best to you, _Zil_," Dirzagh retorted, flicking his fingers at two young _Pasaelaer_. They pulled a short, stocky, muscular person from one of the cages. "A _Hargluk_! A rare find at Market. Unbroken, so that you might teach it your own rules. It speaks our language quite fluently, if a bit archaically. Strong and a great smith. Nimble-fingered and -tongued. Very intelligent."

"Looks a good specimen, _Zil_." None of them had seen Vol'axle come up next to Vlosorbb. The Consort nodded his agreement as Tylia, Pyra and Eileen noted the sheen of sweat over Vol'axle's face and the light scratch on his bare left arm.

"And how much would I be asked to pay for this specimen, Dirzagh?" Vlosorbb inquired.

Pyra and Scorpius watched the exchange with interest. Eileen stared intently at one of the cages near where the Dwarf had been held. Teddy watched the crowd, smiling at those few that met his eyes. Tylia swore quietly.

"What is it, Tylia?" Teddy asked quietly as Vlosorbb and the slave master haggled over price.

"Saeras. She's gone."

"Damn." Teddy swore, too. "What can we do? We have to find her."

"Give me a moment." Tylia caught the eyes of one of Vlosorbb's guards in the crowd, who promptly ambled over.

"Yes, Drathirdalharil?"

"My cousin is gone," Tylia replied, glad that _someone_ in the Underdark who wasn't related to her could be civil. "Find her. Alive and _unharmed_ or I will personally feed you to a drider. Use as many of Uncle's forces as necessary. Go."

He bowed and was gone.

"Lerien." The halfbreed knew that Vol'axle's _pa'das_ would be nearby.

_How may I help you, cousin of my Bond?_

"Find Denaskravital, please," Tylia replied politely. "He and my cousin have wandered off."

_If I can, I will._ Lerien replied, her green eyes narrowing as she stalked away.

"Vlosorbb." Eileen's cool, casual tone earned her an extra-venomous glare from Dirzagh, which she ignored.

"Yes, _Jabbress_?" Vlosorbb replied easily.

"That one-" she pointed to the cage that she had been staring at. In one corner huddled a small, pale, long-limbed creature. "-I would have it. I would repay you later in full."

"How much for the little one, Dirzagh?" Vlosorbb asked quietly

"That one?" Dirzagh replied in an obvious mockery of Eileen, who ignored him utterly. "It is good for nothing. A wild _darthirii_ caught with this evening's sacrifice. Too small and weak to be a proper tribute, my brother gave it to me. It is absolutely feral, and attacks anyone that gets near it."

"Has anyone tried to get near the poor creature without yelling or hitting it?" Pyra wondered in an undertone to her brother, who shrugged and shook his head.

"How much?" Vlosorbb repeated, a note of steel in his voice.

"Fifty. That's better than I'll get from anyone else," Dirzagh replied casually.

"Very well. I shall have them both."

"My men will take them to your pens, _Zil_," Dirzagh agreed with a bow as Vlosorbb paid him.

"No." Tylia made a mental note to kick Eileen for acting as though she had a right to be in the Underdark. "Mine remains with me."

Dirzagh glanced at Vlosorbb, who nodded, and shrugged. Two _Pasaelaer_ took the Dwarf away. A third got scratched trying to forcibly remove the _Aer_ from its cage.

Tylia's heart clenched when she saw the little fellow; he could not have been more than twenty-five years old. That was very, _very_ young for any pure-blooded Elf. She didn't know why, but something about the mix of bloodlines made her mature more quickly.

"Stop that!" Eileen ordered the _Pasaer_, who backed away, earning himself a slap from his master.

She entered the cage herself, and the _Aer_ stared at her with fear-filled eyes.

"_Pai byr thaes, tia tor_,1" she instructed him gently. "_Ai cali tysti sai o thys shaeraes valaer sal sor, eil shor o bai cas. Tysti shor ti._2"

Most of the fright turned to awe, and the child, no bigger than a human of five, leapt into Eileen's arms.

"Take care not to use that language more than necessary, here," Vlosorbb murmured in her ear as she came back out of the cage. "One word could get you killed. They are our hated enemies. Take care."

Eileen nodded, running a soothing hand over the Elf-child's blonde-brown hair.

* * *

1 Do not fear, my child

2 I have come to you from better places than this, and wish you no harm. Come with me


	16. Chapter 15

Chapter Fifteen

Trouble with Trantzvlos

"_Ilninuk!_" Vlosorbb turned to look at his niece. "We need to _leave._"

The Consort nodded, looking a bit puzzled at her vehemence. He gathered his charges around him. His eyes widened, and he glanced at Tylia when he realized that Saeras was missing. The _Orondralas_ shrugged.

"Where to, _dalninil's dalharil_?"

"Home. We need to go home," Tylia replied. Vlosorbb understood at once that she did not mean the place that she considered to be her home-Hogwarts-but rather the Zauval Manor, on the outskirts of Market District.

"Come, my guests," Vlosorbb commanded, and they followed swiftly in his wake. The guards fell in around them. In short order, they stood before a vast complex near the rear wall of the city-cavern. "Welcome, guests, to Zauval Manor."

"_Zil!_ You are most welcome here!" called one of the guards. Then the guard noticed Vlosorbb's entourage. "As, of course, is any priestess of Lolth. And Drathirdalharil. But who are these others?"

"My guests," Tylia snarled, growing impatient. She was worried about her cousin, and this idiot was wasting her time. "Let us pass."

"As you say, Drathirdalharil," replied the head guard. "But if _Ilharess_ Zauval takes offense to the likes of them being in her halls-as I am certain she will-be sure that she takes it out of _your_ hide, not mine."

"I will. Now _move._"

With a shake of his head, he opened the doors and stepped aside. A flurry of activity greeted them. Slaves and servants and retainers of House Zauval scurried here and there. The level of noise was astonishing.

"_Silence!_" Everyone in the hall froze at the thunderous command. A tall, thin _Pasaer_ stood at the top of a grand staircase. She was dressed in black leather and a scarlet-eyed _pa'das_ stood at her feet. "Vlosorbb! What do you mean by bringing such filth into our House? Humans! And a _darthirii!_"

"The _darthirii_ is a slave, _Ilharess_," Vlosorbb replied quickly, easily. His voice slid over his listeners like oil. "The rest are the Lady's guests."

Matron Zauval relaxed considerably, and swept down the staircase as normal activity resumed in the hall. She eyed the group speculatively.

"Then they are my guests as well," she replied at last. "Your mother said that you were bringing some unusual friends, Drathirdalharil. Now I see that she meant it."

"_Ilharess_, there is another guest about," Tylia replied quickly, quietly. "A relative on my father's side. Please, I ask that you help me find her."

"And why should I help to find one such as your father?" _Ilharess_ Zauval inquired in an equally quiet voice.

"Because you of all _Sekevlos_ know that the _Tonaikvlos_ are not as the religious would have you believe. Because you, _Ilharess_ of the second most powerful House in Baltana'stramtor, refused to have my mother exiled or killed when she married a _Tonaikvlos._ Because you refuse to have _me_ killed, although I am an abomination in the eyes of the religious."

_There is no need to banter words with her, cousin of my Bond. _Lerien's voice was welcome. _But you must come quickly._

"_Go!_" Vlosorbb urged when Tylia looked to him. "Take my men. They will follow you. I will take care of your friends!"

Tylia was gone, rushing after Lerien as her Uncle's guards streamed behind her. The _pa'das_ led them on a twisting course further still from the center of Baltana'stramtor. Suddenly, Tylia could hear the hissing of darts and the clatter of blades. With a roar, Lerien leapt around a corner to join the fray. Vlosorbb's men were just behind.

The _shink_ of a drawn blade made her turn as she quickly readied her bow. She blessed her grandfather three times for making it a recurve; she didn't have to waste time stringing it. Theodore and Vol'axle ran past her, each with a _Pasaelael_ blade in hand. Vol'axle's was straight, but Theodore's bore a slight curve.

Tylia rounded the corner and loosed her arrow, which caught an unfamiliar _Pasaer_ in the throat. Three others were already down, each with the marks of a _pa'das_' claws. As she loosed her second arrow, Lerien and Denask appeared out of the heavy shadows and killed two more. A Dwarfin slave fell to Vol'axle's sword and a human to Theodore's. Saeras killed two, one just after the other and both _Pasaelaer_.

After that, for what was surely an age of the world, Tylia shot mechanically. She killed six more, bringing her total to eight, before she could find no more targets.

Thirty lay dead: twenty-five _Pasaelaer_, a Dwarfin slave and four human slaves.

Saeras leaned against the tunnel wall, a weary, sickened look on her face. Vol'axle crossed to her and spoke quietly as he cleaned his blade. When she made no move to do so, he cleaned hers as well. He handled the _Jhondraelael_ sword with reverence. Denask sat at her feet, his purr the same familiar rumble as Petrius', if a little deeper.

"Tylia, what are you doing?" Theodore asked, cleaning his sword quickly. He looked as though he was about to throw up.

"Looking," she replied quietly. As she rummaged through the bodies, she pulled her arrows from them, salvaging those that she could. She also pulled other things, pieces of cloth or jewelry, though she left the most prominent pieces alone. "Where did you get that sword?"

"Your uncle gave it to me last night," the human replied, sheathing the cleaned weapon. "Said that I might find a use for it. I'm just glad I took fencing lessons when I was younger. What are you looking _for?_"

"For signs of the _Trantzvlos,_" Vol'axle replied in her stead. "Am I right, _Kaoveh_?"

Tylia nodded, placing six necklaces, a dagger and three pieces of cloth in a pile. Each bore the same rune.

"The others bear tattoos or scars," the halfbreed sighed, and ran a hand through her hair. "This is good."

"Tylia." The _Orondralas_ looked up at her cousin, and then followed her gaze down the tunnel.

Twenty-five _pa'das_ sat there, silently watching her with scarlet eyes as she ruffled the dead bodies of their Bonds.

"Would you speak with me, felines?" Tylia inquired politely, standing slowly.

_To all of you_, replied one of the females, raking her eyes over each of the two-leggers. Her voice sounded like the whistle of a wind trapped in a tunnel. The others gathered around Tylia, who had moved toward the _pa'das_, away from the bodies.

_Know this_, began a male, catching each two-legger's eyes in turn. He looked also to Denask and Lerien. His voice sounded like dripping water.

_We would not take part in this fight,_ continued another female, whose voice sounded like the hiss of water on hot steel. _We did not believe that she deserved to die. Also, for so many to attack only two is…dishonorable._

_We angered our Bonds because we refused._ That was the first female again.

_But we are not as entrenched into their culture as they expect us to be,_ added the male.

_While we try to agree with our Bonds as much as possible,_ continued the second female, _we pa'das have voices and thoughts and minds of our own._

They rose as one and bowed to the group before them.

_Forgive our bonds for doing as they believed_, implored the male.

_But never assume that we join with our Bonds in a fight simply because they bid us to do it,_ continued the first female.

_And know that you have our thanks for our freedom. _finished the second female. _Please, tell someone where their bodies may be found. They deserve to be laid to rest in the fashion of their people._

"You-You are welcome," replied Tylia and her friends. Vlosorbb's guards said nothing, but looked rather unnerved. "And we will."

The _pa'das_ vanished into the shadows of the corridor.

"Let's get out of here," Vol'axle suggested, stepping gingerly over the bodies. He picked up the pile of trinkets that Tylia had collected and placed them in a bag.

They all followed him willingly back to Zauval Manor, where _Ilharess_ Zauval and Vlosorbb waited for them in the entrance hall. Tylia had to backhand the head of the guards before he would allow Saeras through.

"_She_ is a guest of _L'Jallil_?" the Matron demanded coolly, her scarlet eyes on Saeras.

"_Usstan tlun, Ilharess_1" Saeras replied just as coolly, meeting the Matron's eyes squarely.

_Ilharess_ Zauval grinned at the young _Jhondraer_

"Where did you learn our language?" she asked curiously, then held up a hand. "No, don't tell me. Drathirdalharil taught you."

"Actually, my uncle did, _Ilharess_," Saeras returned honestly.

"And who would your uncle be?"

"Myrdaeraes Sholel," Saeras informed her, the slightest hint of pride creeping into her voice. The Matron glanced at Tylia, who smiled.

"My grandfather, _Ilharess_." The Matron nodded thoughtfully.

"The rest of your friends have been settled," Vlosorbb began, addressing Tylia, "Though I have told the Matron that we have rooms at the palace for you."

"So we do," Tylia agreed. "However, I think we will stay here, for now. Where we may have a modicum of peace."

"Very well. I set a room to be readied for Saeras already. You may rest here until the _or'shanse_."

"Thank you, _Ilharess_," Saeras sighed. "I should like to rest a bit."

"As would I," Vlosorbb, Vol'axle, Tylia and Theodore replied at the same time. They grinned wearily at each other.

"Would you show them their rooms, Vlosorbb?"

"Of course, _Ilharess_," Vlosorbb replied with a bow, and lead them up the stairs.

They came to Saeras' room first. The _Aer_ smiled at Vlosorbb and Vol'axle and went inside without a word. Theodore's room was next, but he hesitated before going inside. Tylia watched him expectantly, but after a moment, he, too, went in without saying anything.

"Wake me when it's time for me to go, _Ilninuk_," Tylia implored. "And remember that I have to be there early."

"I will. To both. Get some rest, my dear," Vlosorbb replied. "You have done well this day, but you have a long night ahead of you."

Tylia nodded and went in. She stretched out on the plush pillow-bed that took up one whole corner of her room. Two hours of fitful sleep later, she was yanked out of a drifting dream by a quiet knock at her door. She groaned, rose and opened it.

Theodore stood there, looking sheepish.

"Can-May I come in, Tylia?"

"I was _trying_ to sleep," Tylia complained, crossing her arms over her chest in annoyance.

"I'm sorry." He looked horrified. "I didn't mean to disturb you. I'll go."

Tylia grabbed him roughly by the arm as he turned away, and he stopped.

"Come on. Now that you've woken me up, you might as well come in."

Theodore followed her into her room silently, and closed the door behind him. Tylia sat on her bed, and he settled cross-legged against the door. For a moment they stared at each other, and then Theodore looked away.

"You've never killed before, have you?" Tylia asked quietly, tracing the design on a pillow with her fingers. She let her gaze fall there, though she could still see Theodore.

His eyes shot back to her, startled.

"No."

"It never gets easier, you know." The halfbreed sighed. "I kill every time I come to the Underdark. Always in self-defense, not that that matters. A death on my hands from self-defense is the same blood as a death from murder. It never gets easier. And in your dreams-"

"You hear their screams," Theodore whispered. He stared in her direction, but he wasn't seeing her. He looked straight through her as she brought her gaze up again. "Even if they didn't scream when you killed them. And their eyes float in the blackness of your mind."

"Yes."

Theodore took a shuddering breath, then met her eyes again.

"Three." Tylia raised an eyebrow. "Of the thirty that were killed, I killed three. One was human. The other were _Pasaelaer_. But it doesn't matter that one was 'my kind' and two weren't, does it? All that matters is that I killed three people."

"That's right. I will not bother you with the number of people that I have killed in my short life. Or helped to kill. Or will help to kill. Or will kill in future. It gets too grisly." Tylia sighed, and this time it was she who looked away. "It never gets easier. But sometimes it's necessary. Sometimes it would be worse if you didn't. But remember something for me, won't you? Something that I didn't learn until my last visit to the Underdark, two years ago."

"Sure," Theodore replied, a puzzled note to his voice.

"Always remember that the screams and their eyes and the dreams are not the reason you shouldn't kill," Tylia instructed her human friend, meeting his eyes as the tears started. Her voice roughened, but did not break. "Always remember that the reason you shouldn't kill is the family of the one that will die. The mourning that you go through as the killer is nothing compared to the mourning of the families of the victims. Send no more to Maendaloli Tylyrn2 than you must, for Balai Kolador3 grieves every death, and keeps a tab on every killer."

"Maendaloli Tylyrn? Balai Kolador?" Theodore inquired quietly, but Tylia could tell that he had taken every word to heart.

"After Jhyr's treachery, Maendaloli became Tysaelyl's consort," Tylia replied smoothly. "She is the _Jhondraelael_ goddess of death, among other things. Death and dreams, and the beauty that comes after nightfall. Also a goddess of the moon. She is called 'the Lady of Dreams.' As for Balai, she is one of Tysaelyl's daughters by his original consort, Jhyr. She is the _Jhondraelael_ goddess of unpreventable war, of strategy and tactics, of justice…and of grief. She is called 'Steelheart.'"

"'Steelheart?'" Theodore repeated. Tylia nodded. "Isn't that the title that you told Priestess Micarffyn that she could call the goddess you worshipped?"

"Yes, it is."

"You worship the goddess of _war_?" Theodore asked, a hint of incredulity in his voice. "That doesn't sound like you."

"I worship the goddess of justice, vigilance and guardians," the _Orondralas_ replied evenly. "And of grief. I worship her because I know that the deaths that I cause are unpreventable. And I worship her because I know that, even if no other on this earth keeps a count of my doings, Balai knows exactly how many souls I have sent to her stepmother's care, and she will exact the cost of those souls from me when it is finally _my _time to go to Maendaloli's side."

"Oh." That odd, sad look was back in Theodore's eyes, but this time Tylia wasn't sure whether he was directing it at her…or himself. He struggled to his feet and opened the door. He looked back at her, and this time she knew that the look was for her. "Tylia…Thanks."

"For what would you thank me, Theodore?" Tylia asked quietly, her soft green eyes not quite meeting his grey-brown.

"For letting me come in. For talking to me. For telling me things that-I think-you wouldn't tell someone else."

"In that case, you are welcome."

"And Tylia?"

"Yes?"

"Please call me Teddy."

He swept out before she could reply again, leaving her to think of how eerily accurate his most innocuous comments could be. Knowing that she wouldn't get back to sleep after that conversation, Tylia rose, stretched, and followed Theodore out. He was not in the hallway, and she assumed that he had already returned his room.

She wandered the halls of Zauval Manor, running her hands over the carvings and sculptures in the hallways. The Manor was the only place in the entire city that she felt safe. No one had ever attacked her here, everyone was polite, though she knew that it was only because _Ilharess_ Zauval would kill anyone that was rude to her.

House Zauval, the sprawling complex on the other side of the city that was the 'official' seat of the Zauval family in Jhyr's city, was not nearly as pleasant a place to be. More than once, high-ranking members of her family-priestesses, mostly-had attacked her there, as well as others. The _Trantzvlos_ had attacked her at least twelve times in her twenty-one years. The Matron's favor could go only so far. Even the Lady's favor could not protect her completely.

"Drathirdalharil, come here." The rough old voice startled Tylia out of her thoughts, and she looked around. The eldest living member of House Zauval stood in a doorway, beckoning to her. "Come here. There is something that you must know."

Tylia eyed the old _Pasaer_ with caution. Elvancyrl was known for her many eccentricities. She was also known to dream true events, though the events did not always come true as she dreamed them.

"Come here, Drathirdalharil!" Her voice sounded ancient-_was_ ancient. Elvancyrl had been living in Zauval Manor for as long as anyone could remember.

"Yes, _micamer_," Tylia replied quietly, and followed Elvancyrl into her room.

"You know of my…talents, do you not, Drathirdalharil?"

"Of course, old one," Tylia replied, closing the door to Elvancyrl's room behind her. "Everyone does."

"Then take to heart the words I say to you now," Elvancyrl commanded. Tylia bowed politely, her face carefully blank. "Are you listening?"

"I am, old one."

"Good:

'The strangest dream ever dreamt

Was dreamed by me tonight

It was of three men unknown to me

Strangers fair but cruel

Eyes of blood, of silver hair

With ebony in their skin

Their voices proud were rough but clear

In a language I have never known

But I knew what they meant

They looked at me so hatefully

Then one came forth not like the men

A lady high and cold and fair

Emerald eyes and hair of silver

Skin of ashy grey that gleamed

In the light of the torch she bore aloft

No fire was there in that flame

Magic bore her light from her heart into her sight

She cared not for the look of men

But my own sight she soon caught

And in my own tongue she spoke to me

Her voice was silky sweet and calm

But her words I could not hear

Drowned as they were by the growls

Of the men she left so callously behind

Swords were drawn by all around

But I, of course, had none

Three facing me and she by my side

Her gaze was fierce and her stance was wide

One by one they fell to her

This lady whose name I did not know

Who defended me so gracefully

When all were gone she turned back to me

She said again what she had said before

I could not hear again this time

Because waking dawn had found me

And robbed me of her words.'

"Have you heard my words, Drathirdalharil?"

"I have, old one." Tylia's head was reeling from the impact of what had just been said. "Can you explain any of it to me?"

"Only that I was not myself in my dream," Elvancyrl replied, her eyes half closed. "I was a human man, not unlike those that you brought with you from _L'Taur_."

"A human? A _male_?" Tylia demanded quickly.

"Yes, just so."

"Thank you, old one," Tylia replied, and hugged her quickly. "You were right; I needed to know."

Tylia bounded out of the room and back into her own. She rummaged through the bag that-gods bless him-Vlosorbb had had brought from the palace. Something had flashed through her mind as Elvancyrl spoke, something that had nothing to do with dreams or visions. Something that might be able to save both her people…

Tylia removed the softball-sized crystal from her bag and set it on her lap. She concentrated for a moment, whispering something that her uncle had mentioned to her once, that she had heard again from her grandfather recently.

_Vel'drav uss Darthirii xal venduin jalbyr 'sohna 'zil d'elezz nind zhahen uss lodias, ussta szeoussen zhal tlu belbaunin. Vel'drav rivvin z'hin vel'klar l'phraktos h'uena szuk, ril reibe zhal tlu t'larryo. Vel'drav l'h'sievss doer seke lu'biu Darthirii telanth mina dal natha k'lar naut reiyal l'phalar, gre'as'anto zhal zhaunyl flohlu. Shael oli Aer tae kaer eilyraes eindral eir syl si shaesi oli vaedi, tia maelaer mar shi kolael. Shael cestal shar shaesi si kyr oli saer oli saer, aelaesia shar mar shi shyjael. Shael si vydaelor tysti sia eil eil Aer mael saes thys ei vaili byr ceri si kali, vaeli mar mesaelia thylyrn_.4

As Tylia stared into the crystal, a small image formed there. An image of six _Pasaelaer_ dressed in black, stalking through a forest on a moonless night…

* * *

1 I am, Matron

2 _Jhondraelael_ goddess of death and dreams

3 _Jhondraelael _goddess of strategic war, justice and grieving

4 When one Elf may greet another again as though they were one people, my secrets shall be given. When humans walk where the gods once tread, every wall shall be broken. When the prophecies come true and an Elf speaks them from a place not quite the grave, peace shall surely follow. (Said once in Undercommon and once in the Jhondraelael tongue)


End file.
